Gold
by jamfish
Summary: "There, in the cap kneeling next to the woman. That little twig is the devil incarnate." On his first day working at the theater Malik meets the troupe's most fittingly infamous actor, Bakura-who quickly turns out to be the most beautiful contradiction he's ever seen. Thiefshipping AU, ongoing!
1. Chapter 1

"So these are the wings, we'll be behind them for the most part except during scene changes, which is what you'll be doing since you don't have any experience with the fly systems or lighting. Got that?"

Malik nodded, only half listening. Theater was eminently gay, and he was only doing this to help pay for his textbooks. Working "tech", as this rambling moron called it was more than likely not going to be one of the more fonder moments of his college career. '_Get a job Malik_,' he mocked to himself bitterly. '_It will be good for you_.'

"...So what exactly will I be doing?"

The stage manager gestured to the box of props on the ground.

"You'll be handing the actors their props. Depending on the night you might have to help move the set during scene changes."

"Got it," Malik muttered nonchalantly, violet eyes darting around the deathly dark surroundings. There was absolutely no light, no windows to the outside world and it felt like a prison more than anything. He ran a calloused hand through his tussled golden hair exasperatedly. Seeing as his older sister owned the beat down theater, this was the best he could do for now. In all honesty, he could be more grateful. But he also could fuck around, catch up on his homework, show up late and steal snacks from the concessions stand and still keep his job because he was their boss's precious little brother. And in that moment, the latter seemed preferable.

"Alright, let's get you acquainted with the stage itself then," the stage manager announced, grabbing a hold of Malik's tanned wrist and leading him through the black curtains. Malik inwardly groaned and nodded with feigned interest.

* * *

Backstage was so fucking dark, Malik swore that the black clad techies looked more like comedic floating heads than an actual stage crew. He smiled. God he was funny. The rest of the crew were leaning against the wall, waiting patiently for the next change in pace when they had to rush toward the curtains and supply the ungrateful actors with their fake baskets and brooms.

'Hurry up and wait,' he heard the patronizing voice of the stage manager echo through his head. She had repeated the phrase at least 4 times during the tedious, boring rehearsal and Malik still had no idea what it meant. According to the quiet murmurs he heard from backstage, the show opened in about a month. He turned his attention towards the script.

"Sweeney Todd...The fuck-"

"That's the name of the play," a rough looking girl loudly whispered at him.

"Wasn't Johnny Depp in that?" he asked, secretly happy to have someone to interact with.

"Heh, yeah. You're new huh? What's your name?"

"Malik."

"Wow , are you like, from Israel or something?"

"No, Egypt."

"No shit! Did you live in a tomb? Oh, Have you ever met a pharaoh?"

"No. I wasn't born 5000 years ago-"

"Hey Derek, the new tech's from Egypt!"

Another dark clothed man stepped gingerly over to Malik and the girl. "No way, did you ever live in a pyramid?"

Within a few short moments, Malik was begrudingly engaged in conversation with the rest of the tech crew, explaining that he had lived in a (sort of) normal house with a (kind of) normal family, and that he had simply moved to America when he was 16. He didn't talk about his father, though. He never talked about his father.

"Hey, be quiet for a sec dude," A boy around the same age as him cut him off abruptly, "it's almost my cue."

"By the way, whose props are you in charge of?" Another tech questioned.

Malik shrugged. "Don't know, don't care," he responded dryly.

The workers exchanged worried glances. Then, one ran off and retrieved a list that hung on the dark wall, contrasting it with its heavenly white color. He clicked on a small, miniature flashlight (God, Malik hoped he wouldn't have to carry one of those stupid looking things around too) and glanced over the paper. All at once his eyes widened, and his hand swiftly clamped to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Guys, he's _Bakura's_ prop guy."

Malik blinked. "What? Is that a big deal or something?"

Everyone exchanged knowing glances. Rachel (the girl who came up to him earlier) put her hand on his shoulder in a mocking display of sympathy.

"Have you ever had gum stuck in your hair?" she asked.

"No."

"Well, when you have gum in your hair, there's nothing you can really do about. You can fuck it up by using peanut butter to get it out, you can try a bunch of bullshit methods to wash it out. But in the end, you know, and that stupid prick wad of gum knows, that the only way to ever get it out is to chop off all your hair. That's how working with Bakura feels."

Malik quietly laughed, "Come on, what are you trying to do, haze me? I'm sure he's not that bad." Without a word Rachel walked over to the small opening between the wings where you could see part of the stage. She looked over and motioned for him to join her.

"There, in the cap kneeling next to the women. That little twig is the devil incarnate".

Malik rolled his eyes and begrudgingly followed her. This "twig" couldn't possibly be as bad as everyone was making him out to be. Malik stood beside her and peeked his head out to see the aforementioned figure. His breath caught in his throat.

His hair was the first thing that caught his attention. Messy locks cascaded ingloriously down the small of his back, a striking shade of white that reminded him of his first snowfall. The stranger's skin was almost as pale as his stunning mane and his frame was scrawny and fragile- so much so that it appeared to Malik that if he were to fall upon the cold stage floor then all the beautiful bones supporting his beautiful skin would shatters. Dark, challenging pools of sienna completed Malik's once over of the angel in question and a foreign feeling rose in his chest. In that moment, it felt like a force was constricting his lungs and denying further breath. In that moment Malik finally understood what people meant when a heart skipped a beat.

"That," he breathed after a long moment of silence, "is Bakura?"

Malik never received a response, and everything seemed to happen rather quickly after that.

"Oh shit, scene change everybody!" Rachel practically ran to her station.

"Malik, get ready to hand him his pie tray!" The words barely registered in his star struck daze. He replied absentmindedly, "What? Oh yeah, sure."

Suddenly, backstage erupted into a state of quiet chaos as actors flooded in past the curtains. Malik was still speechless and not paying attention when he felt an abrupt shove.

"Huh-"

"Hey wow so, this is really weird but..."

Malik turned around and froze. Oh, God. The dream he had just watched on stage was suddenly (though not really suddenly, Malik was standing around uselessly for a good 2 minutes) right in front of him, searching for something. Bakura continued talking, still looking around, looking at anything besides Malik, as if he was too revolted to even glance in his general direction.

"Yeah for some reason I'm looking at my hands aaaand my prop isn't in them?"

Oh, shit.

He snapped out of his stupor to remember he was supposed to hand Bakura his pie tray, and was it just him, or was this guy kind of talking to him like a stupid little brat? Bakura finally found the tray and stood with his head cocked away from Malik.

"Haha anyways I'm gonna go on stage now, but maybe next time do me a favor and- I don't know, do your fucking job?" His voice was incredibly snarky and reminiscent to a petulant child.

All at once the perfect vision that Malik had built up in his head was torn apart, ripped to shreds, set aflame and destroyed until there was nothing left but a vehement catastrophe- a myriad of angry and confused emotions. As Malik watched Bakura walk back to his place on stage with a hand on his hip, every step of his feet, every move of his arms and every snide comment made to his coworkers screamed nothing but complacency and arrogance. His looks and his actions and personality, Malik realized bitterly, were a beautiful but simultaneously horrendous contradiction.

"What a douchebag."


	2. Chapter 2

Malik was now in a different state of shock then before, one that came from being consistently told, throughout the next two hours, what to do by probably the brattiest 20 year old he would ever meet in his life.

Bakura. _Bakura,_ the deceptively attractive, half Japanese, self-proclaimed musical "prodigy" that had bossed him around all evening, and what's more, didn't bother to even look him in the face while he was practically screaming at Malik backstage.

"I mean, okay sure, I forgot the stupid tray, but who does he think he is, the prince of god damn pie trays?" Malik rambled. "I have literally never met someone that arrogant in my _life_. And no wonder he didn't look at me, I bet he's too short to see past my shoulders." This was an exaggeration, he was only roughly 4 inches shorter than Malik. That didn't stop him from the copious amounts of insults he threw at the actor, barely stopping for breath. "I swear he's got a fucking complex..."

Malik continued to rant about the mini tyrant he had been assigned to while his new acquaintances looked at him with silent amusement. Derek put his arm around him trying not to smile.

"Sorry you had to find out like this. But come on rehearsals over, let's head to the lobby. We're all gonna meet up later and go to a bar downtown...Wanna come?" he offered.

Malik paused his fuming. "...Yeah, I could use a drink."

"Haha! Yeah, I bet."

The small group made their way over to the even smaller lobby where they sat down from exhaustion and started on a new topic to relieve the stress of backstage work.

Only a few minutes into the conversation, the stage manager hurriedly rushed into the cold room.

"Guys, I'm gonna need you backstage again, before you leave. Pie shop's wheels broke off. Again."

The group erupted into a synchronized chorus of groaning.

"Quit your moanin' and get back there, it'll only take about ten minutes tops with all of you," he said flatly, narrowing his eyes. "And Malik," he turned to face him, "you can go home. We haven't taught you how to fix the set in cases like these, we'll save that for next week."

"Can't wait," Malik flashed a spurious grin.

"Wait up for us, okay?" one of the techs called out and Malik had time to nod in acknowledgment before the door slammed.

Deciding that he had nothing better to do, he pulled out the thick script from his book bag and began skimming over it. Unexpectedly, the storyline wasn't as boring as he had assumed, and he didn't notice when the door opened once more.

Bakura padded out, movements lazy, tipping a water bottle to his mouth. It didn't take him long to realize that he wasn't alone as a soft page turn sounded behind him. And when he turned around to face the perpetrator he was suddenly very glad he wasn't.

"Oh my God."

Malik nearly jumped 10 feet, startled by the sudden voice. _Wait, that isn't- _But it was. Malik looked up from his seat to see the one and only Bakura, a grin clad on his pretty face that rivaled that of the most enraptured incubus. His eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of him, and he went back to the script, trying to ignore his presence.

He learned quickly that Bakura was impossible to ignore.

Bakura's eyes were devouring him, glancing over every feature of his flawless face, his flawless dark skin and his flawless golden locks. And shit, the dark shirt that clung to his chest was so flattering to his muscles, and oh_ fuck_, those _arms_. To say he was eye candy was the understatement of the century. He wasn't sure which miracle it was that he had performed throughout his life (there were several- hell, even gracing somebody with his presence was a miracle for the person involved) that led him to deserving this blessing of a stranger, but he had never been more thankful. How the hell had he never seen him before? He brought a hand to his mouth to make sure he hadn't started drooling, and then cleared his throat before speaking.

"Hey, you."

Malik flinched, he had hoped that he would just quietly deny the other's existence and they would sit in awkward silence until his friends came back. Unfortunately for him, the skinny little monster slid down on the seat next to him and they were staring at each other for the first time.

"Soooo."

_'Oh God_,' Malik thought with dread at what he was sure was the start of a brand new after show tirade.

"Did you like the run through?"

_'What?'_

"You did see it, right?" Bakura said in a tone that made Malik both uncomfortable and a little tingly.

"Ya know, I'm the lead..."

_'What the fuck, no he's not.'_

"Are you related to the director? Is that why you're at a rehearsal? No offense if you are but... _I_ could do a better job as director. I mean really, I could do a better job than most of the losers out there playing Sweeney but..."

He had stopped listening after a while, but what bothered Malik now was that not only did Bakura not recognize him as the techie he'd tortured all night, but he was very obviously flirting with him.

"Are you _hitting _on me?" he asked bluntly, eyes lowered. Even if Bakura chose to deny it, he still was curious to see his reaction.

Bakura just laughed, bright and vibrant and way, way too forced.

"Oh my God, you're hilarious," he beamed, and rested his arm casually against the back of the chair. "What's your name?"

Malik hesitated. Then after a moment he spoke, "Malik."

"That's so hot. Is that French?" Bakura continued smiling, despite the idiotic question. Malik began to realize that this was a golden opportunity. He could get him back for that pie tray aneurism and for that cocky behavior of his.

"No," he answers slowly, and a smirk slowly crawled its way up to his own lips. "Egyptian."

_"Exotic,"_ Bakura nearly purred and his eyes were dancing. "Anyway, do you like theater?"

"I _love _theater," Malik lies, lowering his voice a little. "Working here is so great, especially when I get to meet sooo many talented people..." he trailed off purposefully and turned his head away from him, then glanced back with a sly grin never leaving his face. Bakura's own grin, practically mirroring Malik's own, stretched even wider, and Malik knew that he hadn't missed the look.

Bingo.

"Pssh. What talented people?"

If Malik were drinking water, he would have done a spit take. Even while flirting this idiot couldn't stop being unbearably conceited.

"Well...I saw you up there during the run through and, I mean...How long have you been doing that?" He questioned, turning to face him fully again, taking delight in how easily Bakura was falling for the ruse.

"Just like, my whole life. No big deal. I'm pretty great, huh?" Bakura ran a hand through his hair. "Don't feel intimidated or anything though. I think you're very...interesting," he said slowly, eyeing Malik up and down again.

"Heh. Glad the feeling is mutual," Malik replied silkily.

"You know, I think you and I need to get together and do something. Just me, you, alone in a storage closet. Or my apartment, whatever you want," Bakura said, now trying to lower his own voice. The result made him sound even more childish than before, and Malik had to stifle a laugh.

"How about...I give you my number." Malik quickly ripped out a page from the back of the script and grabbed a pen from his bag. Bakura nearly laughed from pure mirth- he had scored his number within the first few minutes of learning his name!

"I guess I just have that sort of effect on people," he grinned wildly, accepting the paper. Immediately after, the tech crew stormed back in from backstage.

"Alright Malik, let's get outta here!" one of them called after sending Bakura a nasty look from the corner of his eye. The young actor was too caught up in his own delight to catch it, or even think about why this stud was hanging out with a bunch of techs. Or why Malik had not even bothered waving or saying goodbye.

Once he was alone once more, Bakura looked down eagerly at what was written on the clutched paper.

'I was the tech who forgot your fucking pie tray, you asshole.'

* * *

**A/N: Please rate and review! Criticism or compliments, they keep us going!**

**These chapters are going to start off kind of short (kinda like, establishment chapters) and will gradually get longer. I hope you guys don't think this is dumb or anything, that would be cool. **


	3. Chapter 3

Bakura couldn't believe what had just happened. He had just been _rejected_ by a techie, a fucking prop monkey. If he had been anyone else he might of felt like an idiot, but seeing as he was a lead role and the best tenor in the state, he wasn't about to let something as miniscule as that upset him, let alone discourage him. No, he was going to turn this around. By the time he was through he'd have that ethnically ambiguous loser kissing his feet- and more. Bakura cackled in a way that made a passing lady stop and stare. He brushed off his already healing ego and plotted his next move on the way back to his dorm.

* * *

A muffled groan was the first thing that came out of Malik's mouth the next morning while waking up. He rolled over so that his face was no longer smothering the soft fabric of his pillow, and then dared to sit up and rub the drowsiness from his eyes.

Bad idea.

His head ached, his throat felt like he had swallowed a cup of nails, and when he opened his eyes he was momentarily blinded by the harsh sunlight from the beams filtering through his bedroom blinds.

Alright, so he had definitely had one too many drinks last night.

Malik blindly clamored around his bathroom looking for the bottle of aspirin his sister had insisted he take with him when he left for college. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and downed 2 more than the recommended dose. After throwing on his still dirty black uniform, Malik spent at least 15 minutes looking for the keys that he had haphazardly thrown aside last night. Finally, he found them under a pile of clothes and was off to work.

As his brain pulsed against his skull, he could only imagine how much his pain would intensify listening to that high whiny voice both onstage and off. When he stumbled into the theatre, graced by the dim lights and quiet, he decided to brace himself for the next few hours. Malik figured he had probably made a mistake starting a conflict on his first day and now he'd have to pay for it. He heard his friends (who he'd already told) snicker when they saw him steady himself on a table.

"Shut it, this is your fault."

This made them even more gleeful and he groaned in both pain and exasperation.

"How are you gonna fend off the mini-Nazi in your sorry condition?" a voice without a body said to him. That's right, how was he going to deal with Bakura in his weakened mental state? Malik acknowledged that the best and easiest thing to do would be to apologize and try his best to be professional.

But that was the coward's way. And hangover aside, he wasn't going to succumb to a snobby little brat.

"Where is Toby?" a woman on stage called out irritably, startling Malik out of his thoughts.

"Bakura? He still isn't here? Christ, we're 30 minutes into rehearsal!" came the grating reply from the stage manager. "Hold up, where's his prop guy..."

Malik nearly screamed and fled for the door, but kept his mouth shut as the rest of the tech crew eyed him and flashed malicious grins. The stage manager walked briskly to the wings of the stage, and as Malik saw him approach he released an inaudible, "Shit."

"Hey. Bakura isn't on stage and we're about to do one of his scenes. Can you go check out the boy's dressing room and see if he's dicking around in there? It wouldn't be the first time," he instructed him, and in Malik's hung over state his voice was reminiscent to that of nails on a chalkboard.

"Fine," he snapped shortly, all other responses trapped in his throat. He really didn't feel like trying to argue today. He stumbled out of the comforting dark and into the hallway, bloodshot eyes scanning lazily around him for the dressing room. Once he found the beige door, he barged in without bothering to knock.

The room was small, filled with mirrors on either side of the walls, and was bright. Very, very very bright. Great, just what he needed right now. Malik visibly winced, ready to dart the hell out of there until he caught sight of a familiar mess of snowy hair. Malik mentally braced himself.

"They need you on stage," he rasped after a moment, trying to ignore how positively shitty he sounded- and hoping Bakura would too. Instead the actor just turned around, met eyes with him, and grinned.

"Oh, hey techie." Bakura turned his head around and continued putting on his stage make up. He wasn't even in costume and was at least half an hour late to their first dress rehearsal. Eventually he stopped primping and walked over to the clothes rack. Malik kept his eyes firmly on the ground until the rustle of clothes caught his attention.

"What the fuck!" He looked up to see Bakura stripped down to nothing but his boxers, looking for what he assumed was a shirt. Bakura turned around with an amused look on his face.

"This _is_ the dressing room, what did you think I was doing in here?" He said way too pleasantly and turned back around and started to once more look for his costume. At last, after what seemed like 20 minutes of pure silence, he pulled a simple white shirt and brown coat from the rack and slipped into it. Malik awkwardly waited for him to finish dressing but after a while looked up again this time to find Bakura still in his underwear, staring at him. Malik jumped in alarm.

"Jesus, what's your damage? You were supposed to be out there an hour ago! Hurry up!" he yelled in bewilderment.

A half smile crept along the corners of his mouth. Bakura noted the disheveled appearance of Malik's hair and clothes, not to mention how red his eyes were. This guy obviously had a rough night and was most likely recovering from one too many beers. Idiot. That would make this a lot easier. He moved towards Malik until they were inches away from each other.

"Listen, I know you probably think I'm upset about last night, but really...I think it's cute how you thought it was even slightly okay to talk to me like that," he murmured slyly.

Malik was trapped. He didn't have the competence to talk his way out of this and right now he didn't even have the strength to push a 10 year old out of the way.

"Anyways, I'm willing to forgive that, if you can show me how sorry you are."

And that did it, Malik had had enough. With every ounce of power he had left he forced himself away from a man who was at least 4 inches shorter than him.

"What's wrong with you!" he shouted, "You don't know anything about me, you have no idea if I'm even _gay_, what kind of person-"

"Wanna see me fit my entire fist in my mouth?"

Unbelievable.

And with that, Malik was out of the dressing room practically sprinting back to the stage.

Once there, he didn't have the emotional or mental capacity to talk to that obnoxious stage manager one more time. He had worked this job for a stupendous 2 days, and already wanted nothing more than quit and kick a toddler. Preferably at the same time. Trying to block out the grating sounds of chatter from both backstage and off, he closed his eyes tight.

Around 5 minutes later, that voice that he could not ignore no matter how hard he tried pierced through the others like a knife. Almost imperceptivity, Malik opened his eyes and peered through the wings.

"I'm here," Bakura called out proudly, stepping onto the stage and aloofly interrupting the scene the actors were in the middle of. They stopped talking and appropriately glared daggers at him, and Malik noted that Bakura was very aware of the scorn that he received by others, but didn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Pssh. The kingdom rejoices," one of the tech crew next to Malik whispered spitefully.

"It's about god damn time," one of the men on stage said lowly. "We haven't been able to do the miracle elixr number for an hour."

"Awww, you guys waited for me? It's so cute that you can't do anything without me," Bakura cackled with mirth.

"Just stop talking and run the number," the director groaned from the front row of seats, pinching the bridge of his nose and waving his hand dismissively.

In a flurry of movements and scene changes (that Malik took no part in helping out with), they were finally able to start the delayed song sequence. Although Malik had no interest in it whatsoever, and although he swiftly covered his ears so that he didn't have to hear anymore singing, he found that couldn't pry his eyes away from it. He quickly blamed it on his tired muscles and nothing more.

As he continued to watch his mute performance, he noticed Bakura's head begin to not-so-subtlety turn to lock gazes with Malik from backstage.

_'Son of a bitch,'_ he thought, _'He's doing that on purpose.'_

Malik was trying his very best to avoid the glances Bakura threw his way, but every so often he would catch a sneer or a well hidden sarcastic wink. It was stressing him out more than the actual work. After an hour he decided he needed a break. He grabbed his water bottle and rummaged through his bag for the aspirin bottle he had taken with him. By this time the pounding was almost gone but Malik didn't want to take any chances. He wandered down a small hall where he was certain he'd seen a drinking fountain.

3 minutes and 2 pills later he found his way back just in time to help with the next set change. They rotated the pie-shop, the lights went on, and Malik was free for the next 7 minutes. He and Derek were messing around with the pie dough, and he was thinking about how much better he felt, when he heard the first verse of Bakura's solo. The first time he had heard him sing.

"_Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around."_

Malik froze.

His voice was feather light, and held a certain amount of grace to it. And for the first time, there was no brashness or impudence in his tone, only a radiant, almost heavenly sound. As the song continued on, Malik's heart rammed painfully against his ribs and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it except pray reluctantly for the end of this fortuitous, captivating Hell.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

As the song finally came to an end, and Bakura stood up and remarked snidely to Mrs. Lovett, "Wow, nice job going flat there. Even_ I_ could have hit that note," Malik pondered with dread how his stage persona could be so drastically different than his actual one.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! If you like it or even if you hate it reviews are super cool! And you're super cool too! Also a quick note about the rating, it's rated M for chapters later on. We really hope people like this, (me and my best friend are working together, we went camping and stormed up this idea and we basically talked out everything over those 5 days haha) and keep reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

Bakura should have loathed work parties. There was this abhorrent tradition among the troupe that when a show was nearing opening night, the tech crew and the actors had the "opportunity" to work together on the finishing touches of the set. Bakura scoffed at the very idea of spending even more time with his aggravating cast than was necessary. Yes, he really should loathe work parties, and he really should not be here.

But they also had pizza. And there was a lot Bakura was willing to put up with for pizza. So he sat- as far away from everyone as he could, but close enough so that he could watch how stupid they looked. The idiots were currently sweaty and disgusting and a stark contrast to him in every possible way.

Not too far away, the woman who played Mrs. Lovett was hammering away at the pie shop, pearls of perspiration rolling down her thin cheek bones.

"Wow, nice work there! Maybe you should spend more time hammering in that high G!" Bakura called to her in a sneer, and then erupted into laughter as she turned to him and hissed venomously, "Fuck off."

Deciding that he had tormented the ugly enough for one hour, Bakura ignored her reached for his 5th slice of pizza. Focused solely on his food, he smiled the first genuine smile he'd had in the past month. He bit down and winced, letting out a tiny shout and a glare at the pizza that had dared burn the tongue of a professional actor/vocalist, as if that would ease the pain. Despite that, the supposed- to- be grimace turned into a childish pout. After a few moments however, he regained his former vigor and continued eating, completely unaware of his surroundings.

"What's his problem, seriously."

Malik snapped out of daze to react to what his friend was saying. Though he'd never admit it, he'd been hesitantly regarding Bakura. He had watched him insult his fellow cast and immediately go to the food while refusing to do any work, but what enthralled him was the way he reacted. Bakura looked happy, and not in the "pleased to humiliate and belittle the people he worked with" way- actually, genuinely happy. _'What the fuck.'_

"Malik? Hello? Anyone home?"

He waved the other tech off. "Yeah, yeah. What were you talking about again?"

"Bakura, man. I mean, he shows up to a work party and doesn't even _work_. All he does is stuff his face and insult his crew. What is he, fucking possessed?"

Malik looked over to Bakura once more before absentmindedly responding, "I know, just looking at his face is pissing me off - he treats everyone like shit. Does he think just 'cus he's a little pretty he can act like that?"

"...What?"

"Huh?"

Malik realized his mistake only after it was too late.

"Petty," he corrected quickly. "I meant petty."

A heavy silence hung thick in the air as they stared at Malik incredulously.

"So...that's your type, huh?" Derek suddenly grinned, crossing his arms proudly against his chest. Malik pulled a face.

"Hell no," he said sourly. "Guys, you don't think...No. No, no, not him. Not at all."

Seemingly unconvinced, the group began snickering and murmuring to each other.

"I mean it!" Malik insisted. "And stop talking about me when I'm right here!"

Rachel cleared her throat and lowered her voice an octave.

"Oh, Bakura!" she mocked in a feigned swoon. "Please, your small dick and horrible personality is so sexy, just _take me_ now!" She barely was able to finish her butchered impression of Malik before she and the others burst out in thunderous laughter, resounding against the walls of the auditorium.

"Oh, fuck you guys. I'm getting some air," Malik practically snarled the words and turned around, storming away. He didn't have time for this- didn't have time for these confusing feelings and confusing people. And as he found the door and the chilling breeze rushed past him, sending consecutive shivers down his spine, he desperately longed to be back in Egypt. The sun was low in the sky, just about to set. At least he would be able to leave soon. He let out a soft grumble that materialized as a cloudy puff before him and sat down on the ground, leaning against the nearby concrete wall.

"I guess we really can't stop bumping into each other. This has got to mean something," Bakura's voice sounded alarmingly close from next to him. Malik, already used to being surprised by him, did nothing but groan and whirl around to look at his smug face.

"Already done with all your hard work?" he asked, sarcasm leaking through his gritted teeth.

"There isn't any more pizza, actually. So I came out here instead," Bakura replied with a shrug.

"Because you ate it all."

"How could you have known that? Were you staring at me?" Bakura's eyes shone with a mischievous gleam.

Malik again opted to ignore him and stayed silent, waiting for him to go away.

Of course he didn't go away.

Instead he stood there, casually leaning against the wall and sipping some strange yellowish water. Malik eyed the liquid curiously. _'Looks like piss,'_ he thought to himself. Bakura noticed and smiled cheekily.

"Hmm? This?" he answered Malik's unspoken question, waving the bottle. "It's peppermint tea with honey and lemon. Can't abuse the only thing that'll get me away from these losers," he said, pointing to his throat. Malik said nothing in response.

Bakura clicked his tongue, annoyed but determined to break the silence.

"I hate them all."

Malik's eyes widened in faint surprise. He looked up, expecting to see a frown or even a slight detection of bitterness, but when he locked eyes with Bakura all he saw was a crooked, almost sinister smile and the tiniest hint of resolve. Bakura aimed that look down at Malik.

"That's right, I'll admit it," he continued. "The only reason I'm here is on the slight chance a scouting agent comes to one of our shows, he might sign me, and I can step over these "actors" like the stairs they were made to be," he said, voice rich with triumph.

Malik was aghast. He had no idea how anyone could so bluntly state their intentions like that. Their _selfish_ and _manipulative_ intentions. He was aghast, yes, but also...sympathetic? He was reluctant to acknowledge it, but Malik himself had a similar attitude toward the people in his life. Slowly, cautiously, he asked,"...How are you using them?"

Bakura was in shock. He always spoke his mind, but the last thing he expected was to be indulged. He quickly grinned.

"Well, for starters I steal my double's English notes and homework, so while he's rewriting them at home I can practice singing with a faster tempo." Unbelievable, who'd of thought that this was what got Malik's attention?

Against his better judgment, Malik broke his silence." ...I'm only passing chem because the teacher's pet wants to suck my dick."

It was quiet, then without warning Bakura burst out in a fit of laughter which, seconds later, Malik joined him in.

"No shit! What are you, doing, sleeping with her?" Bakura asked after it had died down.

"Hell no. But she's so desperate to hang out with me, it's honestly pathetic. So I've been going on "study dates" with her where the moron just does my homework, no questions asked." Malik smirked maliciously-it felt oddly refreshing to be able to get this off his chest.

"And after the semester is over?"

"She'll have no use to me."

Bakura had to stifle another cackle, still rather shell shocked at Malik's confession. He hadn't assumed him to be this malevolent upon meeting him, but he loved it. God _damn_ he loved it.

"Hmm," he mumbled in thought, more to himself than anyone.

Neither of them had realized it until the temperature dropped significantly, bringing a new chill and new pink hues radiating through the setting sun, that over 20 minutes had past and the work party was long abandoned with no reserve.

"Shit," Malik interrupted Bakura mid-sentence with an upward glance to the sky. "We never got back to the party."

Bakura arched one eyebrow and flashed a half smirk. "As if you even wanted to."

* * *

The next day at work was weird. Weird in the sense that for some reason, the tense atmosphere that usually surrounded Malik and intensified around Bakura had pretty much faded. It seemed that a sort of tacit mutual agreement had been struck between the two yesterday evening. No more fits over misplaced props (some glares and snide comments though), no harassment in the dressing room. Not to be confused, he still didn't like the guy, but at least now he was being tolerable.

Malik was in an overall very calm state of mind when he took his regular 7 minute break. It was a welcome change from the particularly chaotic day he'd had in school. With a neutral expression, he opened the back door to find a familiar sneer greeting him.

"What's up, techie?" Bakura asked, not really wanting an answer. _'Oh great,'_ Malik thought. _'Just what I need. One conversation and now he probably thinks we're butt buddies.'_

"Listen, it was cool having someone to complain to and all last night," Malik braved, "But that doesn't mean we're gonna start hanging out now-"

"Don't flatter yourself," Bakura nearly hissed. "I'm just taking a break same as you, you don't own the back entrance-" He stopped himself and smirked. "At least not that _I_ know of."

Malik felt heat rise to his cheeks unwillingly and he narrowed his eyes, but kept his calm composure.

"Gross. Don't talk to me like that," he demanded. Despite his words, he crossed over to where Bakura stood leaning against the wall and took a seat on the ground a few feet away from him, just like he had last night.

For a while, neither spoke. Bakura took a few occasional sips from his honey tea contraption and looked at the sky.

"You are gay, right?" he finally asked in a nonchalant tone, characteristically breaking the silence. Malik's breath caught and his thoughts spluttered, completely caught off guard at the up-frontness of the question.

After a moment of hesitation, he replied with a glare, "You can't just ask people questions like that. None of your business."

Bakura glanced down at him with snide amusement.

"If you were straight, you would have just said no."

Well, shit. He got him there.

Admitting defeat, Malik simply scoffed and turned away. "Whatever," he mumbled bitterly, refusing to look up to face the triumphant grin that he knew would plague Bakura's pale face.

"I could just tell," Bakura continued smugly, answering the question that Malik never asked. "You're soo obvious."

"Go to Hell."

He'd had enough, his sanctuary had been breached and it was time to fall back. Letting out a single angry growl, he headed back to his job, though not fast enough to miss Bakura loudly exclaiming with glee, "Where are you going, back to the closet?"

He slammed the door and stormed back to the set.

* * *

The day after that passed at a crawling pace. Wanting nothing more than to enjoy his break in blissful silence, Malik opened the back door, and although he knew even before entering who would be there, he still released a sigh.

Bakura gave him a look of mock pity. "Aww, did somebody have a bad day?" he teased, getting up to stroll over to him.

"I did not," Malik glowered. "I just don't want to talk to you. This is my break area, not yours."

Bakura's smirk widened. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"It's too bad I'm not leaving, then."

Malik let out another deep sigh, then resigned himself to the idea of sharing his break with someone he made fun of backstage. He half listened to Bakura ramble on about off pitch "this" and shitty tonal quality "that", and after seven long minutes had definitely past, he moved to get up.

"Hey, bastard! Where are you going? I wasn't finished talking yet," Bakura whined.

Malik rolled his eyes. "_I _ have a job, _you_ have a job. Break time's over anyway."

"Someone's _definitely_ had a bad day. Did your little girlfriend find out her two x chromosomes aren't cutting it for a y guy?" he teased, trying to hide his disappointment with mean comments.

"Was that supposed to be a gay chemistry joke? Because that's high school biology, you moron," Malik replied.

Bakura put his hands up in a pretend sign of defeat.

Malik clenched his fists and sat back down. Bakura's little joke aside, he had been having problems with his science puppet. "Study dates" weren't enough anymore and he didn't know what to do about that. Not to mention all the frustration he had from his other peers. He couldn't hold it in anymore, and with Bakura an arm's length away, he let lose. This time it was Bakura who stared in silence while Malik went on a rant about the idiots in his class. He talked about all the things they did that were wrong and all the things he did that were right, and the terrible things he wanted to do to them when they couldn't take simple fucking directions. Finally, when Malik was out of breath and words, Bakura spoke.

"Hahaha, holy shit."

Malik narrowed his eyes. He was at a complete lost on how to handle any part of this. As he told himself again and again, he_ hated_ this man, but now he was talking to him during his small reprieve from work. And the worst part was; he felt better. He could care less what Bakura thought of him and that made him so easy to talk to. Deciding to save these musings for another time, he looked at his watch.

"I'm going back," he announced as he got up and made his way to the door.

Bakura grinned to himself, clearly pleased with how this encounter had turned out.

* * *

_**A/N: IMPORTANT! This story is more than likely not going to update for about 3 weeks. One of the writers is going on vacation on the 17th of June, and we can't write without the other! We maaay be able to get another chapter out before then, we'll keep our fingers crossed!**_

**Story wise, things are finally starting to get rocking and rolling. Sort of rolling, but mostly rocking. Are there any theater geeks (like us) out there reading this? We hope you enjoy it even if you aren't, haha! Also, the title comes from an Owl City song, in case people were wondering.**

**As always feedback is hella great! Let us know if you like it or if you hate it so we can make it not suck so bad! Thank you everyone~**


	5. Chapter 5

It had been three weeks since Malik had started working at the theater, and he had finally gotten a rhythm going. Every morning he'd wake up at 5:30, throw on whatever was lying around and ride to class. He would make it to school in about six minutes. He never ate breakfast, so he went straight to his first class which was nearly empty due to how early he had chosen to arrive - Malik was probably one of 10 students who had class first thing in the morning.

He never got enough sleep and spent his time during the lesson drooling into a cup of plain black coffee. After three periods of not paying attention he returned to his apartment to attempt in vain to sleep. And at 4:00 he threw on his black tech clothes and dragged himself out of bed to his night job. Unexpectedly, this was the most eventful part of his day and the most enjoyable. He and his friends would point at the actors when they messed up and mock them backstage, then in an odd turn of events he would take his break during intermission outside, joined by Bakura.

Malik was surprised at how well they had been getting along, and how this arrangement weirdly benefitted him. It had become a habitual thing to walk out the back door and see a shock of white hair leaning against the wall; though now with full costume required it was usually covered by a brown wig. Malik would air his dirty laundry, free of judgment and Bakura would grin while sipping his peppermint concoction. Then they would both go back and wouldn't talk for the rest of the night. Bakura would still give him suggestive looks during his scenes, and for some reason they didn't really bother Malik anymore.

But the Tuesday before the show opened, Bakura wasn't there.

Malik had arrived late that day, and when he peered through the wings of the stage expecting to see the familiar figure, he instead got a flurry of actors running around trying to find his double for his scene.

"Did somebody try calling Bakura?" one voice called out that Malik recognized as the irritable voice of the director.

"He wouldn't pick up the phone," came the equally perplexed reply of an actor on stage.

Malik rolled his eyes, despite it being too dark for anyone to see.

Of course he wouldn't show up the week before we open. Typical Bakura. But this was hardly a loss, he mused sardonically, crossing his arms and leaning against the cold backstage wall. If anything, it was just one less thing for him to do today, seeing as he was his prop guy. That meant all he had to do was help move the set during the few scene changes. Hell, Bakura should skip more often. Malik grinned sanctimoniously to himself as the rehearsal resumed, albeit slightly more chaotic than usual.

The minutes ticked by at a nearly agonizing pace, and the backstage was so stuffy that when break time was finally announced, Malik practically ran out of the theater. When he got outside he took a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air, and once again sat against the wall. Being by himself, he had time to acknowledge the stress that had been building up throughout his day. Unconsciously, he opened his mouth to unload all of his troubles, but remembered that there was no one leaning against the wall beside him today. He frowned to himself, noticing how silent it was, and how wrong it felt to be outside alone during intermission. Malik ended up just going back inside early, and with nothing to do, helped move the tables for Act two, feeling vaguely dissatisfied.

* * *

Wednesday passed, then Thursday, and Bakura still hadn't returned.

While it was great for the efficiency of the stage, it did nothing to improve Malik's mood. He unintentionally felt himself become lonely when there was no one there obnoxiously sipping his pretentious honey peppermint tea or sliding in obtuse pickup lines into conversation. And every day he went back to the stage a little earlier, having nothing to entertain himself with other than his actual job.

Malik had found out towards the end of their first rehearsal without Bakura that he had in fact come down with laryngitis, and wouldn't be back until he regained usage of his voice - however long that would take.

And so he stood there, bored, apathetic and for one reason or another that he couldn't quite place, somewhat nauseous, as a newfound pain settled deep in the pit of his stomach.

"Have you guys noticed how much easier it is getting up in the morning, knowing that little rodent won't be harping on us at work?" Derek remarked, beaming sardonically.

"It's gonna be so painful when he's back, though," Rachel sighed, painfully exaggerated. "I've gotten so used to not having to stuff my ears with pie dough every time he opens his mouth."

Malik opened his eyes, snapping out of his daydream to listen to his friend's boorish comments. He wished he hadn't, because the pain in his gut increased noticeably. Maybe skipping breakfast was finally catching up to him.

"Maybe we'll luck out and he won't get better before the show," one offered with a cackle. "It's not like we need him, his double is _way_ better and much less obnoxious."

_'Leave him alone.'_

"That's soo true!"

_'No it's not.'_

They broke off into the familiar chorus of snickering, while Malik remained silent, glaring ahead of him.

"I bet he fucked up his throat from sucking too much dick-"

"Shut up."

The crew stopped laughing and instead snapped their heads towards Malik in unison, staring. The atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable.

"What's your problem, man?" Derek laughed uneasily, giving him a lightheaded punch on the shoulder. "Why're you so upset? It's just Bakura."

"I know," Malik replied curtly, flashing him a sour look.

Another painful silence.

"…I'm gonna get going," he unceremoniously announced, standing up and grabbing his bag. The group continued staring at him as he quickly strolled to the door and out of the lobby, never looking back.

"Where the _hell _did that come from?" Malik cursed to himself aloud. He kicked his motorcycle, which was a bad idea, he thought as he acknowledged the pain in his big toe. He had to go home; forget about homework, he needed time to think.

Once there, he immediately took a shower. While the hot water relaxed his muscles, he tried to do the same for his mind. He did not like Bakura, not even as friends, not even as a human being. Then why had he felt obligated to defend him? He rested his forehead against the cool tile and thought desperately about how he was going to fix this. At this rate, he would have no choice but to hang out with Bakura because his _actual _friends would mark him as a technical crew pariah. Maybe if he just ridiculed him twice as much, no one would think anything of it. Yeah, that would work.

The next day, he went to work with a plan. Being cool with Bakura was okay, but he had crossed a line, one that actors and tech were never supposed to cross. He would have to restore balance to the theater by ragging on him twofold. It was time to end this. Malik went up to the crew like he always had and joined in their small talk. Unfortunately for him it seemed that they had deemed the subject of Bakura as touchy, and avoided their usual jokes at his expense. However, after a few minutes one of them finally spoke up.

"Day four, guess who's not here?" There were a few scoffs and noises of agreement from everyone else. This was his chance. His chance to prove he didn't give a shit about Bakura.

"He's probably not even sick, just wanted some quality alone time with him and his mirror," Malik offered, though more reserved than usual. It was quiet for a few seconds before they erupted into obnoxious laughter, Rachel slapping Malik's shoulder in approval. He didn't feel very good.

"Dude you're right, I bet he totally takes it to bed."

"Haha yeah, who else is gonna sleep with him?"

_'Uh-oh. This isn't good,'_ Malik thought uneasily as he felt something rise in his chest.

Then Derek and Rachel began an exaggerated impersonation of the pale actor.

"Ohh Bakura, why are you _sooo _talented?"

"Oh my god, if anything _you're _the talented one, Bakura."

The same feeling that had manifested in Malik yesterday was coming back.

'_No, not again. Please don't say anything.'_

"It's a good thing you can't sexually disappoint yourself!"

_'Fuck.'_

"Stop it."

Once again, all eyes were on him.

'_Shit, you fucking idiot, say something, turn it around.'_

_ "_You guys don't even know him."

' _No-no no no no.'_

"…Malik?"

You could almost hear the crickets chirp.

"I need to help with the opening set," he said as quickly as he could. He got away from them as fast as possible and moved as much of the set as he could alone trying to forget about what he had done. He spent most of the day like that, evading the rest of his crew. After what seemed like a millennia, intermission eventually started. He darted out to his usual spot where he could sort out his feelings.

Why? Why had he stood up for that man? Malik replayed the encounter over and over again, each time regretting it more. What a horrible mistake. What a horrible, horrible mistake. He defended someone he hated to the people he liked…but he couldn't have just let them talk like that, could he? Back then his chest had felt heavy and he was compelled to say something regardless of his plan. _Fuck_, why!? He felt nauseated and confused and indignant. He needed to be alone right now. For the first time in 4 days, he was thankful for solitude.

"Did you miss me?"

Malik turned to stone. When he lifted up his head he found the one and only reason for his distress, and just looking at his stupid, bratty grin made him furious, angrier than he had been in weeks.

He got up.

He walked over to him.

And with a loud growl of undeniable outrage, he grabbed him by his stupid, bratty face and kissed him, hard.

* * *

**A/N: Sooo, we lied. We were totally able to pump out one short chapter before I left. B) But this is actually it, so now there really won't be an update for 3 weeks lol. Sorry. Also, this story isn't over yet! Not even close, haha. Hope you are enjoying. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

There was absolutely nothing pleasant about the kiss.

Mouths were smashed together, teeth painfully clicked, and Malik was too lost in his haze to take notice of how petal soft Bakura's lips were, registering only pure emotion rather than action. His hands roughly seized Bakura's face and had pulled him forward in a complete spur of the moment. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't joyous. All that Malik was left with after the brief moment had ended was a pair of numb lips and a nauseating feeling that took root in the pit of his stomach. He released his hold of Bakura, but remained still.

Oh no. Oh no, no no. He had not just done that.

"Well, it's about time!" Bakura beamed after a brief moment of uncomfortable silence. His eyes were dancing, a toothy grin had spread across his face and he couldn't look more on cloud nine if he tried.

He had. He had just done that.

Malik thought he was going to be sick.

Even if he had chosen to respond, he wouldn't have had time to, because at the moment the door slammed open, an actor stepping out. Malik flinched, snapping out of his stupor and taking a huge side step away from Bakura, distancing himself as much as possible.

"Intermission's over, guys. Head back on stage," the actor said nonchalantly.

Malik bolted passed the door, thinking only of getting to work, where he wouldn't have to think. Bakura was a little offended that he hadn't offered to escort him to the stage, but it couldn't be helped - the poor guy was probably in shock.

"Ahem."

The nobody who was sent to get him was still waiting impatiently.

"Go away," Bakura said without looking at him and the man, unfazed, rolled his eyes and headed inside. Once alone, he touched his slightly numb lips, letting his astonishment register. "Ow, my teeth."

But when he made it back, he immediately found his coworkers. "Hey guys, guess what finally happened?"

As per usual, they ignore him.

"He did it, he kissed me. I mean it was only a matter of time." Bakura continued to talk without anyone listening.

"It was amazing," he lied. "You could tell how into it he was, must've been holding that one in for a while. He was probably thinking about it all week."

* * *

"It was completely spur of the moment, this is a fucking mess," Malik groaned, rubbing his head and trying to figure out where he went wrong. "Just a huge uncoordinated, clumsy disaster." His friends tried to give him sympathetic looks in between their fits of laughter.

"How did it even happen?" one of them asked.

"I really don't know."

* * *

"Looks like he finally came to his senses."

* * *

"I don't know what I was thinking."

* * *

"I'd say it was in my top five best kisses, you know when you're with someone and time just stops?"

* * *

"It was worse than my first kiss with Anka Soliman in 6th grade."

* * *

"Honestly I'm just glad I don't have to wait around anymore, he obviously realized it-"

* * *

"-was a huge mistake." Malik put his head in his hands and mumbled, "What am I gonna do now?"

Silence. There really was no solution, he had fucked up and didn't even know why. What he did know was that there was no way in hell he was going to get stuck with some insufferable 20 year old child. Somehow, some way, he had to turn this around.

* * *

That night's rehearsal went on at a painfully slow pace. He had ended up asking some other guy to cover Bakura's props for the night and did his best to clear out whenever he came backstage. Thankfully, Bakura was too wrapped up in catching up from the three days he missed to pay much mind to it. Finally, it was time to leave, and Malik scrambled to find his bag and get the hell out. After he had his stuff together he made for the hallway exit. His heartbeat sped up when he passed the dressing room then stopped when he was safely to the door.

"Hey!"

Malik jumped. _Shit. _He dared a glance and instantly regretted it. Bakura was waving to him from outside the dressing room. In his still chaotic state of mind, Malik did the only thing he could think of and pretended not to see him and walked briskly to the parking lot.

Bakura blinked once, twice. Then, his arm slowly fell to his side as he stared ahead of him, confused. What the hell? His face had fallen, slightly hurt for only a moment before breaking off into a grin again. He was probably too embarrassed to even look at him. That's cute. Must be in a big hurry to get home and jerk off. Then, he would stay up all night trying to work up the courage to ask him out. Bakura's grin widened. There was so much to look forward to tomorrow.

There was not anything to look forward to tomorrow. Because the next day, it became painfully aware for Bakura that Malik was trying everything in his power to avoid him as much as humanly possible. It was subtle at first. Bakura would throw a few grins his way and Malik would flinch and avert his gaze, pretending he didn't see them. To be expected from someone clearly head over heels for him. But as the day continued to roll by at a crawling pace, Malik's attitude didn't change.

"Hey, techie!" Bakura called from the water fountain, noticing the prop monkey walking towards it after a set change. Once Malik looked up and saw who it was, he turned right around without a word and stalked back to the auditorium. Okay, what the actual fuck. This guy never struck Bakura as the shy type, so why was he pussying out now? Brows imperceptivity furrowed together, he strolled back to the stage, trying to ignore the vague vile feeling in his chest. _'During intermission I'll straighten him out,'_ he decided silently.

Intermission rolled around, Bakura fled from the auditorium, ran to the back door, swung it open and stepped out… only to find it completely empty.

Something inside of him sunk when he saw the abandoned concrete wall. It was the worst kind of feeling – but why? Because some backstage loser was avoiding him?

"...Whatever."

He tried to shake it off, he didn't care. What a fucking waste of time. He took out the notes he had written on the new choreography and attempted to no avail, to focus on something else. After a while he gave up and made his way back to the set. The whole thing was stupid, and there were more important thing to think about and _god_ - why was intermission taking so long? Why was everyone so _useless?_ He just wanted to finish rehearsal and leave. And so in that moment, Bakura did the unthinkable. He grabbed a box of prop utensils and helped set the table for the next scene.

With Bakura working at an inhuman pace to get the show started again, break was over three minutes early.

"Alright guys, back to the grinder. Haha, get it?" one tech said when the manager announced that it was time to get back to work.

"Shut the fuck up," Malik replied, laughing anyway. This was the first real break he'd ever spent with working crew. It was a little awkward, but better than the alternative. They crossed the stage together to get to their assigned spots and the actors flooded in with new costumes and different makeup. Among them he saw a small man in haphazardly thrown on clothes, struggling to put a brown wig over his bright white hair. After he had covered his ostentatious locks, his eyes traveled along the set with a pleased expression- until he spotted Malik giggling with his friends. They both paused for a millisecond, then parted opposite of each other.

Bakura stood, seething in position waiting for the curtains to open. He had never, _ever_ been ditched before. It was like adding insult to injury. While Malik and his friends were busy sucking each other off he was doing their job.

That idiot would be over it tomorrow, he had to be. There was no way anyone could be this stupid.

So the next day, Bakura walked into work with his chin higher than usual, confident that this pathetic situation would completely blow over. He changed into his costume at a leisurely pace (he was already 30 minutes late, why start rushing now?) and then strolled onto the stage, coming through the back. As expected, Malik and his friends were dicking around, until Bakura made his entrance and the techs halted their conversation, waiting for him to pass. Pretending like he didn't see the obvious sneers and eye rolls, he continued walking slowly, glancing up at Malik as he passed. For a brief moment, their eyes finally met before Malik turned his head away, face unreadable.

As Bakura watched, something dropped in his stomach and he visibly flinched. _'Ignore it, ignore it,'_ he told himself, hurriedly rushing on stage in the middle of a scene. This was stupid. This was so, unbelievably stupid. Bakura kept telling himself that, but as the rehearsal continued on, as Malik kept steering away when running into him in the halls, as he avoided his looks, as he pretended he didn't even exist, the horrible dropping feeling never left him. In fact, it only got worse the more the rehearsal carried on, intensifying when for the second day in a row, Malik didn't show up to their habitual meeting spot during intermission.

Bakura didn't know what to think- what the hell had he even done to deserve this?

By the time the night ended and the next one came, he was completely sick of it. He stopped looking at Malik entirely and he had resigned himself to their newly nonexistent interaction. He went through practice like a zombie, throwing out lines and music that he had already memorized without a second thought. Bakura had never felt like this before. If he had to describe it, he felt exhausted from the inside out. And as the clock ticked by and the day came to an end, he felt his unhappiness turn to anger. He tried pushing it down, but there was a giant ball of hurt and confusion swimming in his chest and he suddenly found it hard to swallow. He rushed to the changing rooms, and on his way out barreled into the very cause of his distress.

Malik looked at the ground and mumbled an apology then quickly turned away. Bakura felt his chest tighten, and that one look was enough to bring all of his emotions to a boil. With every ounce of suppressed anger, he pushed Malik, making him stumble a few steps back.

"_Jesus_, what's your problem!" he barked, recovering from the impact.

"You! You're my fucking problem!" Bakura screamed, gesticulating wildly. "Do you think you're special or something? Do you think this hurts me? Idiot! I don't give a shit what you do. This is a joke, isn't it huh? A joke you and your dumbass tech friends came up with 'cus you all think you're so much better than me. Well it doesn't fucking matter, because I'd just get bored with you anyways!" He was on a roll, barely stopping for breath. "You know what, I'm glad. In fact, I should thank you for saving me the embarrassment of being associated with someone so insignificant."

Malik said nothing.

"I'm too good for you anyways!" Shit. Bakura needed to get away from him, he could feel angry tears pool in the corners of his eyes. "And- and don't come near me again!" He let go of him and, gathering up the rest of his self-respect, went to get dressed and go home.

Malik stood, frozen in place, staring ahead of him long after Bakura had stormed away in a fit of rage. Never, for as long as he had known him had he ever seen him act like that. He would be lying if he said he didn't expect some sort of confrontation, but how was he supposed to know he would be so god damn upset? Malik's throat went dry and he shook his head, desperately trying to rid it of the image of those wide, livid pools of sienna.

He took a sip of water, trying to calm down his now racing heart.

Malik had pretended to ignore the tears that had begun rising in the corners of Bakura's eyes towards the end of his outburst, but he couldn't ignore the sharp pain in his chest as he thought about it over and over and over again. Why? Why was this bothering him so much? After this, Bakura was more than likely going to leave him alone, isn't that what Malik wanted? But for some reason that thought alone made his chest ache even more. Fuck, fuck fuck.

_'Get it together, man. Just walk past the dressing room, out the door, get on your bike and go home,'_ he told himself, hands now running exasperatedly through his sandy hair. He started walking, but discomfort wouldn't cease. All the way to the front door, with every agonizing step, all he could think about was Bakura. Jesus Christ, he couldn't get that face out of his head no matter how hard he tried. This was seriously fucking him up. His heartbeat was irregular, his palms were sweaty, his muscles exhausted.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

What was he going to do? What the _hell _was he going to do?

The hand that was firmly gripping the knob of the door suddenly slipped back to his side. He turned on his heel, heading right back down the hall again. Logic and reasoning was abandoned, he was running on pure feeling now.

Then, in a flurry of footsteps, purposeful movements and undetermined emotions, he seized the handle of the dressing room door, yanked it open, pointed to the shock of snowy hair and nearly shouted, "Get your things Bakura, we're going on a date!"

Coincidentally, Bakura was already gathering his things when Malik barged inside. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny the elation those words gave him. He knew this was a great opportunity to reject and humiliate him, especially since he had just made a fool of himself by announcing it in front of half the cast, but there was no way to stop the instant "Okay," that escaped his mouth.

They looked at each other awkwardly until Malik said, "Right, um, great, so I'll be outside."

Then Bakura said, "It's fine, I have everything."

_'Shit.'_

_'Holy shit.'_

Thus they walked to the parking lot together with Bakura quietly trailing behind Malik, who led him to his motorcycle.

"Put this on," he instructed, handing him a helmet.

Bakura stared at him, then the helmet, incredulous, before bursting into a familiar fit of laughter. Unconsciously, Malik was unbelievably thankful to hear it again.

"You're funny. Now really, where's your car?" he smiled after he calmed down.

"This is- don't be difficult. Get on the bike."

"Oh my God. Are you a douchebag?"

Take back any feelings of fondness he may or may not have felt for him, now Malik just wanted to punch that stupid lopsided grin right off his pretty face.

"You know I could just drive home-"

"Okay okay calm down, I'm getting on your douchebag bike!" Bakura cackled, placing the helmet onto his head and awkwardly fumbling onto it. Malik bit back a retort and instead climbed on as well, starting the engine.

"You need to hold on to me or else you'll fall off," he warned.

"I do not-" Bakura began, but was cut off with a startled jump as Malik revved the motorcycle obnoxiously loud.

He shot a glare at him before finally submitting and wrapping his lanky arms around his waist. "You really are a douchebag."

The rest of the ride was silent, and Malik ended up pulling up to the very first restaurant he saw. He really had wished he had planned this ahead of him- he brought very little cash and had almost nothing in his bank account.

It was one of those cheap looking places where the servers all had matching uniforms. At least the food probably wouldn't cost too much. A cheery looking waitress found them a table. Malik took off his jacket, because for some reason he felt really warm.

Bakura looked around and then scoffed. "You might as well have taken me to McDonald's."

"Shut up."

Bakura snickered and scanned the menu. Malik on the other hand was unexpectedly nervous and ended up deciding on the first thing he saw that didn't have meat in it.

"Hello, I'll be your waitress this evening. Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

Malik barely noted their gawky teenaged attendant and hastily answered, "Just water is fine."

Bakura snorted. "I'll have a strawberry milkshake."

"Alright, coming right-"

"Wait, I don't want a cherry on top, but I still want cherries so put some in a bowl."

The waitress took out a note pad and scribbled down his order. "Shouldn't be a problem, I'll be back with your drinks."

She padded away, leaving Malik and Bakura awkwardly sitting in silence, staring across the table at each other.

Malik looked down, searching every cavern of his mind for something to talk about. "The hardwood on these tables is nice."

Bakura's smirk grew wider. He was nervous. How cute.

But before he had a chance for a snide reply, the waitress returned like a God send to hand them their drinks.

"So are you two ready to order?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

"Yes," Malik said quickly, relieved. "Just the veggie burger."

Bakura didn't even try to hold back a short bark of laughter. Malik sent him a nasty look, but kept his mouth shut.

The waitress, visibly flustered at the tension, turned to Bakura. "And for you?"

"Okay, I want the sirloin steak, but you know how they come with mashed potatoes? I don't want that, I want fries. So give me fries on the side and hold the gravy, put it in a bowl so I can pour it myself. And also cut up all the asparagus into pieces," he told her in one breath.

Malik stared at him, mortified.

"O-Okay," she stuttered, frantically writing it down.

"Actually I changed my mind, asparagus is disgusting. So I don't want any, take it off my order. And also I want a refill on my shake," he continued, waving his already empty glass.

"Right away, you two!" she said swiftly, jotting down the final note and making a dash for the kitchen.

Malik continued staring, aghast. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Bakura was undeterred. He smirked sanctimoniously. "Wrong with me? Aren't you a vegetarian? You really are a douchebag."

Malik scowled. "It's a family thing, you wouldn't understand. There's nothing wrong with not eating meat."

"If you're a douchebag."

Bakura waited for reply but Malik just sipped his water like a homo. After 30 seconds of silence Bakura was starting to lose his cool. What should they talk about? Maybe he shouldn't have insulted him so much. Dammit. He refused to acknowledge his clammy hands, and without thought said, "Veggie burgers are disgusting." Oh hell. At least it got Malik's attention

"Like butchered animal limbs are any more appetizing."

"Hah! So is it like, a political statement? Do you have a hard on for animal rights?"

Malik ground his teeth. _How, _and for what reason, was he even here? Did he like having his existence belittled? Was he a masochist?

"Wow, I'll take that as a yes, pervert."

He wanted to scream. "At least I'm not salivating over dead cow remains." To his dismay, Bakura laughed.

"If you're so grossed out, why'd you ask me out in the first place?" Bakura cackled.

Unfortunately, joking aside, Malik had no way to retort to that, and the situation suddenly seemed so comical to him that he couldn't help but let out a guffaw. Eventually, their server returned and set their food on the table. Malik thanked her while Bakura waved her off.

"So, how's chem going?" he asked Malik after a moment. As he spoke, he dug his fork into his steak without cutting it, lifted the whole slab into his mouth and took a rip out of it with his canines.

Malik flashed another disgusted look and questioned himself once more what the hell he was even doing here. However, he braved onward.

"Well, the class is ending soon. Finals are around the corner."

"And you're gonna break that poor angels heart. She's probably sooo in love with you," Bakura sneered.

Malik couldn't hold back a smirk.

For some reason, that seemed to send them into an actual, enjoyable conversation. It had taken him a while and a lot of doubting, but Malik finally remembered that it was possible to have fun with this horrible, disgusting man. How and why? He still couldn't answer that. But for now he was mostly content, though confusion still warred in his chest at what he was feeling, and clearly _had_ been feeling for some time now. He decided to push those thoughts to the back of his mind and to deal with them later.

Once Malik had finished eating, and Bakura had finished with his animalistic display of savagery, he got out his check book and gave a sigh of relief. Thank God, he had just enough to pay.

Bakura noticed the action and cleared his throat. "Umm, wait. You're gonna take me out on a date and not even buy me dessert?"

Malik visibly tensed. "I have just enough," he protested. "If you buy anything else, I won't be able to-"

"Waiter!" Bakura called obnoxiously, cutting Malik off.

Before Malik could climb to the other side of the table and wring his scrawny neck, the waitress from before appeared beside him.

"Some dessert for you today, boys?" she beamed.

"I want apple pie and the chocolate mousse, but give me the apple pie before the mousse then wait awhile because if you don't it'll mess up the taste."

"Bakura please-" Malik tried to plead with him.

"And I want ice cream on top of the pie, not on the side, but I want a scoop of _chocolate_ ice cream on the side too. Also I noticed that you put some weird caramel syrup on the ice cream, don't do that. Hey, do you guys have sprinkles?"

"Listen, I don't have enou-"

"Never mind, sprinkles don't even taste good and they look cheap. Also put a cherry on top of the mousse."

The waitress smiled good naturedly."I thought you didn't like cherries on top."

Bakura narrowed his eyes. "What's your name - Nancy, huh? Do you consider yourself a funny person, _Nancy-"_

Malik interrupted with uneasy laughter,"Haha! Nothing for me, thanks!"

And with that she made her way back to the kitchen to retrieve Bakura's dessert.

Once she had disappeared out of sight, Malik turned his focus back to Bakura, glaring dangerously, ready to blow a fuse. "What the fuck is your problem!" he shouted. "I kept telling you, over and over! I don't have enough money to pay for two more desserts, you idiot!" His hands gripped either side of his head, threatening to yank the hair that resided there.

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Who says you have to pay?"

Malik ignored him and tried to go to his happy place, a haven where Bakura didn't exist.

It didn't take long at all before his desserts arrived just how he had asked, and he dug into them with glee, completely unphased by Malik's silent treatment. He devoured both of them in record time, almost quicker than they took to arrive. Before Malik had time to ponder where all the food went with another glance at Bakura's scrawny frame, the latter interrupted his thoughts.

"Okay, now follow my lead."

Bakura got up from his seat, stood up, and then bolted for the front door, cackling wildly the whole time.

He really was an idiot.

_'Fuck, shit, I fucking hate him!_' Malik thought in distress, watching him run and watching the heads turn as he clearly fled without paying.

God, what was he going to do? He'd never been in a situation like this before. He couldn't simply explain that he didn't have the money to pay, that's not how it works. He would have to - No. He was _not _seriously contemplating going along with his date's juvenile attempt at a dine and dash, he was an adult...But what other option did he have? With very shaky resolve, Malik spotted the bathroom and made his way over there.

_'Maybe if there's a window…'_

There wasn't. He left the bathroom and slowly walked to the table. Thanks to Bakura, he was getting several suspicious stares. He put his hand in his jacket pocket, pretending to take out a credit card which he didn't have, and as fast as he could, made a beeline for the exit, leaving behind many astounded patrons. Malik hopped on his bike, helmets be damned and yelled for Bakura to do the same.

"Get on!" It didn't occur to him that he hadn't the slightest idea where his date lived, and he rode, swearing, until he thought they were safe. Then, he parked in the first parking lot that he saw, stopping for breath.

Bakura was laughing maniacally, clutching his sides while Malik gasped for air.

"Are you insane!?" He pushed the still laughing Bakura onto the ground. The impact did nothing to stop his amusement.

"Ahahaha! You're so lame! _'Get on!'_ Like we just robbed a bank!"

"What if we got caught? We could have gone to jail, you moron!" Malik yelled, though not as worked up as he was a few moments prior. "God, you're unbelievable."

Malik's anger only spurred Bakura on more and he continued laughing, clutching his stomach and rolling onto his side. As the relentless fit of joy didn't end, Malik found himself struggling to hold back a grin of his own. Eventually he broke and joined in, snickering at how ridiculous this whole stupid situation was. He actually felt bizarrely happy. There was a strange flutter in his chest, and he tried to disregard it as the fit finally ended.

"Seeeee, you had fun!" Bakura teased, pointing at Malik's rare smile after he had regained his composure. "You had fun with meeee."

Malik snorted. "Don't flatter yourself." He climbed back onto his bike, but didn't deny the statement. "Get back on. And tell me where you live."

Bakura flashed a trademark toothy grin and followed his lead, shouting instructions for which turns to take over the loud engine as they drove home, his arms never relinquishing their hold of Malik's waist. Once they arrived at Bakura's apartment complex, he parked and helped Bakura down in a surprising but quick act of tenderness.

For the first time since they left the restaurant they were staring at each other, and the flutter in Malik's chest made a reappearance.

Bakura smiled.

Malik didn't know what else to do or say, so he instead opted to lean down and press a fleeting, chaste kiss to Bakura's lips. It only lasted a second, but it was so radically different from their first that it came as a relief to both of them.

When Malik pulled back, Bakura was still smiling at him.

"I'll, uh," he began, pulling out his phone. "I'll give you my actual number this time."

"Really? I'm honored," Bakura sneered, but his tone lacked the usual venom and was replaced with something else, something Malik couldn't quite place.

They exchanged numbers in silence, Malik only breaking it to growl, "Hey, don't set my name as 'Douchebag.'" Then he mumbled a short farewell, got back on his bike, and drove home.

The flutter in his chest never did go away, staying with him all night until he finally fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: WE'RE BAAAAACK! 8D I had a great vacation, thanks for asking. I hope this was a decent comeback, we sure had a great time writing it! When Harry met Sally, anyone? : Also, the chapters are finally getting longer! Also also, something I wanted to note. This isn't a story about how Malik and Bakura hook up and realize they're into each other. This is a story about how Malik and Bakura fall in love and realize that they are soul mates. Which they totally are. In canon. Just saying. Anyway, hope everyone is enjoying!**


	7. Chapter 7

The usual post date anxiety was postponed due to the arrival of opening night. Awkward encounters and unanswered questions would have to wait, because for the moment everyone on set was furiously preparing for their debut which was but hours away. Today, breaks were virtually nonexistent.

Malik watched the pandemonium indifferently, refusing to change his work ethic just because this was their first show. Occasionally he would throw a glance to the stage and watch the director frantically try to polish whatever he deemed "needed work". A few times he would catch Bakura with a strange expression, like he was determined to win…something. Malik also noticed that Bakura didn't look at him once while performing. It didn't upset him at all.

Finally, break rolled around, and Malik instinctively headed for the door to the back entrance.

"Nervous?" he asked, approaching Bakura and sitting down next to him. It had been a week since they had met at intermission, and Malik didn't realize how much he missed it until Bakura looked down at him and grinned.

"Are you kidding?" Bakura folded his arms across his chest and flicked up the bangs of his brown wig. "Not at all. I'm the last person you should be worried about."

Malik snorted, lips curling up into a smirk. "Are you sure? I seem to remember you looking pretty tense."

"And I seem to remember you staring at me," Bakura replied instantly, not missing a beat. "No surprise there."

There was absolutely nothing funny about the sentence, but Malik couldn't contain the short, breathy laugh that escaped his lips. Deciding not to confirm or deny the statement, he instead stood up, leaning against the wall beside him. "I doubt you'll be horrible," he offered, expression mirroring Bakura's. "I mean, I'm not saying you're good or anything, but at least the audience won't go deaf. Probably," he teased.

Bakura just snorted. Save for that small exchange of banter, the actor didn't talk much. Malik looked over at him and his breath caught, only for a moment. His face was definitely different. He was smiling, completely genuine but somehow malicious. He wouldn't say that it looked _happy,_ still he could see a wicked elation. Malik really didn't get theatre.

Bakura left their niche early, abandoning Malik and his water bottle. Malik took a final glimpse at him and tried not to admire his intensity. At that moment he felt as if he had to do something, but had no clue what it was he had to do. In an appalling display of support he got up and followed him inside. Since intermission was still for another minute or so, he caught up to him, and without looking or saying anything, lightly brushed the tips of Bakura's fingers with his own. Bakura's eyes widened for a moment, then both, without acknowledging the other, got back to their assigned places. And with that one brush of contact, the rest of the day flew by, and rehearsal was over.

* * *

The seats of the theater were stiff, uncomfortable and way, way too close together. Malik could smell the musty cushions and the cheap perfume of the patrons crowded around him. Part of him didn't even know why he had even chosen to do this. It wasn't smart, it wasn't professional, and if anyone spotted him then he would definitely be in deep shit, but for one reason or another he had asked someone to cover him for opening night so that he could sit in the audience.

He wasn't interested in the slightest of watching the show that he had seen run at least a hundred times. What he was interested in, although he tried in vain to disregard it, was the snowy haired runt who had somehow managed to begin worming his way into his heart. It was stupid. It was really, really stupid. They had only gone one date, but even he couldn't deny he was somewhat taken with him.

What a waste of fucking time. He took out his phone that was supposed to be off, lowered the brightness and started playing some useless app. At least he liked the music despite being sick off it. By the time he had leveled up to 40, Malik heard mild horns resounding from the orchestra pit and the beating of a drum signaling the next song. He begrudgingly put his game away and watched Bakura emerge from a wagon with his hair tucked under a cap.

He had heard this song over and over again for nearly a month. Malik regrettably learned it by heart and knew every lyric before it came out of his mouth. It was catchy and had gotten stuck in his head an innumerable amount of times. But, as much as he convinced himself otherwise, he wasn't even listening to the song. He was listening to Bakura sing it. Malik didn't want to admit it, but he had an air about him, especially on stage. Even as another person Bakura still had that quality that made him so interesting to watch. He followed his movements and as soon as he left the stage, went back to his phone.

* * *

When the curtains finally closed, Malik let out a sigh of relief he didn't know he was holding, and a heavenly light filled the auditorium, gracing the audience with its presence. All around him, people began flooding to the exits, and if he listened closely he could hear the content murmurs as they passed. It had appeared that the show was a success, and seeing as he had only watched roughly half of it he would have to take their word for it. He reached for his bag on the floor and began making his way through the crowds, heedlessly shoving those who stood in his way until he reached the back entrance.

His eyes scanned the halls as he walked away from the audience until they landed on a familiar beige door. He knew who would be waiting there long before he pulled the handle and stepped outside into the welcoming cool breeze, but he still felt a prickle of warmth in his chest when he saw the mess of white hair leaning against the wall, staring up at the stars dotting the new night sky. Upon hearing the door creak open, Bakura turned on his heel to where Malik stood and a crooked smile graced his deceptively angelic features.

"Hey, techie. Enjoy the-" He cut himself off as he gave his outfit a once over- he wasn't wearing the assigned tech clothes of a plain black shirt and pants, but instead a leather jacket over a gray hoodie. He arched one brow and shot him a quizzical look, to which Malik gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders.

"I saw the show. My back hurts like a bitch, though. So I just watched from the audience instead. Seemed like the easiest option," he drawled, nonchalantly messing with an errant strand of blonde hair.

Bakura's eyes danced. There were several things that didn't make sense with Malik's statement, but he kept his mouth shut. Then, before he could say anything at all, the taller boy was digging through his bag, and he watched as his face fell.

"Oh, shit."

"Eh? What is it?" he asked Malik, who was tensely gripping something in his bag.

"Uh… _Dammit._" Resigned, he pulled out a pathetic looking bouquet of crumpled roses, rolled his eyes, and offered them to the man in front of him.

There was a beat of silence before Bakura burst into booming laughter.

"Ahahahaha! You idiot! You put a bouquet in your bag? Stupid!"

Malik grimaced, annoyed and embarrassed at the situation. He reached to snatch them away before noticing the subtle blush (that honestly could've just been rouge) across Bakura's face.

Still grinning, Bakura picked up his own bag and mumbled, "At least I don't have to worry about ruining them," and stuffed them inside.

Malik would've yelled if he hadn't messed up the gesture first. The brat zipped his bag, ripping more than a few petals in the process, then slung it over his shoulder. He put his hand on his hip and eyed Malik.

"Thanks for the flowers."

Malik shrugged. Bakura clicked his tongue and started tucking his hair back into the cap. Malik was staring at his feet, lamenting the entire night when he felt chilly hands grab his face and pull him down into a kiss. Somewhere in his mind he registered that this was their third kiss. It was also the longest. It was simple and planned but in itself, indescribable. There was the soft sound of their lips pulling apart then it was finished.

"Later," Bakura said as he made his way to the lobby to greet his adoring fans.

After he had left and the door closed, Malik stood there, mouth slightly ajar, face pensive.

"Fuck."

* * *

"So, what's up with you and Bakura?"

"Huh?"

Malik scratched his nose, feigning naivety.

"Yeah...you're not obvious at all," the techie laughed, examining the stage cues.

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

He smirked. "Hmm, must've been talking about a different Malik."

"…What?"

He glanced at him with sarcastic causality. "Yup, apparently some dude with the same name as you gave Bakura a bouquet- he wouldn't shut up about it."

_'Fuck my ass, that idiot.'_

Malik cleared his throat. "Small world I guess."

The curtain rustled and another coworker emerged.

"Hey, hey! So, Malik and Bakuraaa!" She exclaimed in a sing song tone.

_'Gotta change the subject_,' Malik thought, annoyed. "God, how long is makeup check gonna take?"

"Wow dude, way to pussy foot around."

He put his hands up defensively. "Really guys there's nothing going o-"

"There it isss!" Bakura practically yelled, copping a feel from behind. Malik jolted in shock. Was this real life?

From the seats they could hear a muffled, "Good, now can we see Toby?" Bakura removed his hand from his ass and skipped on stage as if he hadn't just thrown Malik into a hopeless pit of despair. His friends turned away from him smugly.

"Anyways what were you saying, Malik? We kind of got interrupted."

* * *

The Sunday night performance was over before Malik had time to comprehend it. He had become quite deft at escaping into his own world while annoying pie makers sung about their verboten adventures in cooking human flesh while wearing stupid hats, and had become even better at escaping the illusory world only when a set had to be moved and a prop had to be handed. The sound of roaring applause also awoke him from his daydream, as well as his tech friends smacking each other on the back and uttering thanks to no one in particular that the show had gone as planned and no sets broke down.

When he got home he was surprised to find that he was actually exhausted. He collapsed onto his bed and for the first time in roughly a month, fell asleep almost instantly. In fact, he had been so tired that night, that when he awoke and looked at his alarm clock, he had to double take when it read: 9:45.

_'Fucking shit._' He grabbed his stuff, threw on the first outfit that smelled okay, and bolted.

* * *

Malik was startled out of his doodle of a Kawasaki rip off motorcycle by his phone vibrating from his pocket. With a short glance ahead to make sure his professor was still oblivious, he pulled out the device and clicked it on.

_BAKURA: im hungry_

Christ. How was he even surprised? He rolled his eyes and tapped away a response.

_YOU: What do you want me to do about it?_

His thumb ghosted over the lock button before noticing that Bakura had already begun typing, seconds after the message sent.

_BAKURA: what do u think_

Malik stifled a groan and jammed the phone back in his pocket, going back to feigning interest in whatever the hell the professor was talking about now. Something about Vietnamization. No less than 3 minutes later, another text arrived.

_BAKURA: take me out 2 lunch_

He was still typing.

_BAKURA: pls_

Malik sighed.

_YOU: I'm in class you moron_

_BAKURA: um…leave? maybe?_

_YOU: …I'll meet you in the parking lot_

_BAKURA: :D_

He got up from his seat knowing the professor would just assume he had to take a piss. Why was he doing this? Was he an idiot? These were the questions Malik should've been asking instead of walking out the door and making his way to his motorcycle.

When he finally arrived, Bakura was already waiting for him.

"What, did you run here? And how did you even know where I parked?" Malik asked.

"You're the only asshole on campus who rides a motorcycle, it wasn't hard to find."

Wow, he had to have been saving that one. Biting back a retort, he tossed Bakura a helmet and sat down, starting the engine.

"Where to, your highness?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Bakura wrapped his arms around him and shrugged. "I don't care. Somewhere nice."

Well, that wasn't going to happen. Choosing not to voice the thought, he drove in silence, scanning the landmarks that flew past them for the cheapest looking vicinity that sold edible food. He decided on a small burger stand that was about 6 minutes away from campus.

"Oh, Malik. A place this nice?" Bakura drawled, fumbling down from the bike and removing the helmet. "Really. You _shouldn't_ have."

"Be thankful I even took you out, dipshit," Malik quipped back.

Bakura didn't respond and instead stuck his tongue out like a petulant child.

They approached the modest looking stand, and Malik ended up hesitantly ordering another veggie burger, despite not being exactly fond of them. Bakura laughed again, and made an effort to make sure he knew just how stupid he thought he was for a good 3 minutes before ordering a double cheeseburger and a strawberry shake. Malik watched once again in bewilderment as his date inhaled his food. He hadn't even finished his veggie burger by the time Bakura had sucked down his shake. He gave up and tossed the half eaten meat substitute in the trash and headed towards his bike.

"I want ice cream."

"…What?"

"Ice cream. There has to be a shop around here."

"It's the middle of November."

Bakura chose to ignore him and without another word started walking. Malik hurriedly caught up to him, stammering out a response. "We should get back to class. Besides, they probably won't even sell it in this weather."

"Ice cream shops don't just close after summer, stupid."

"God, whatever." He gave up, might as well indulge him. Malik didn't feel like going back to class anyway.

"There!" Bakura pointed excitedly to a shitty looking shop with a smiling cone painted on the window. He grasped Malik's hand and pulled him along.

The interior looked just as mediocre as the exterior. Nonetheless Bakura sped to the counter in search of what flavor he wanted. Malik rolled his eyes and watched him gaze ravenously at the frozen dessert. He saw him frown suddenly. Bakura turned to the server and called him over, eyes narrowed.

"You don't have strawberry."

_'Oh fuck. Please don't do this,'_ Malik silently prayed to the heavens above.

The worker behind the counter gave a sheepish laugh. "I'm sorry! I don't order the ice cream, I just work here. We have chocolate, cherry, mint-"

"How the fuck has your business survived by serving cherry, but not _strawberry? _It's one of the three basic flavors! There's chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry!" Bakura interrupted, pointing a finger accusingly, eyes flashing wildly. Malik watched, helpless from the sidelines, knowing by this point that the brat in front of him would refuse to listen to reason.

There was a beat of silence before the worker gave a spurious smile. "What do you want me to do then, sir?"

Bakura glowered. "I want to speak with your manager."

"My manag- He's not…he's not here-"

"Then get him on the phone! What do I look like to you?" he demanded.

"A joke," Malik mumbled.

Bakura reached his arm out and roughly shoved his date without breaking his death glare with the server. "Stay out of this!"

Left with no other option, the pitiful looking teenage boy grabbed the phone and dialed up the manager. "…Boss? Um…I know this is unwarranted, but a customer wants to speak to yo-"

"Give me the phone!" Bakura shrieked, grabbing it from out of his trembling hands.

Malik watched, horrified. He had to do something, but what? With wary conviction he grabbed him by the arms. Bakura was restrained for the moment and it was his only opportunity to make a run for it. He pulled him, kicking and screaming from the shop and when they were a safe distance away, let him go.

"Asshole! Take me back!" he screeched.

"What the _fuck_ was that!?" Malik screamed back. "I'll take you to a different shop, okay?!"

They were both out of breath and panting. Bakura narrowed his eyes, pushed his hair back and exhaled a placated, "…Okay."

After Malik had apprehensively sought out a place that sold strawberry ice cream, he decided that it would be smart to end the date there. He asked whether or not Bakura wanted to be dropped off at the college, to which he replied, "You were planning on going back?" before proceeding to insult him and his educational commitment.

Malik remembered where he lived, it wasn't especially far from his own apartment. "So glad we had this talk," he scowled and climbed back on his bike.

After the always silent ride back to his apartment complex (hearing conversation over the roaring engine was extremely difficult), he helped Bakura down and took off his helmet for a moment, shaking out his hair. "I'm gonna head back to class, then."

When Malik opened his eyes he found Bakura staring up at him expectantly. "What, you aren't going to come inside?" he asked, lowering his voice a little.

Malik quirked an eyebrow. "No, why?"

Bakura raised his arms in defense, shrugging exaggeratedly. "I'm just wondering when we're gonna fuck," he replied brusquely, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his tone.

Neither spoke for a few moments.

"Goodbye, Bakura," Malik finally said dryly, and then turned his back, got onto his bike, and drove back to class.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, guys! The one who usually writes the authors notes and edits is laying right next to her bff co-writer! Say something, co-writer! "fingers crossed for the sex scene" Thanks for that anonymous co-writer! (absolutely no one can know who we are and that we are writing a Yu-Gi-Oh! fanfiction. It's too painful.) That's right everybody! There is in fact a sex scene coming your way next chapter! Let's hope it's not a complete train wreck. Feedback is always appreciated, thank you very much for reading. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Step stage left, turn around.

Hands up, then crossed, repeat, repeat.

Do the special move that keeps the audience interested.

Dance like a stupid fucking monkey then do it again.

Bakura had surpassed the point of memorization and now knew the choreography to be second nature. He hated dancing, they might as well have been tied up with puppet strings and forced to jump around like lifeless marionettes. The lights were hot and his wig was itchy. His thoughts shifted from the macabre routine to more important factors of his life, like when he was gonna get the hot tech he'd been after for weeks in bed. They had already gone out _twice_. What was he waiting for, a wedding? Was it some weird foreign thing?

Bow your head, turn to the side, and lift your head back up.

He needed to get laid. Bakura had that fluttery feeling in his stomach that signaled that he had to have sex ASAP. Usually he didn't have to wait this long. Normally he got what he wanted on the second date, and there wasn't any need for a third.

Cross one leg behind the other, then spin.

_'Shit.'_

Distracted by his muddled thoughts, Bakura, for the first time since fourth grade, lost his footing and stumbled into a chorus member. 'Tsk's' and grunts of annoyance were heard throughout the line. An angry blush threatened to spread across his face, but luckily he remembered how unimportant they all were and the embarrassment faded away.

He just wanted to sing without all of the other voices drowning him out; his solo didn't have choreography, just vague directions that could still be improvised. The thought crossed his mind for a millisecond that the only dancing he wanted to do was with Malik. Offstage. In the privacy of his apartment.

After what felt like a millennium, the strenuous dance number was over, and Bakura was rushed to the left wing to dick around off stage until his next appearance. He leaned against the wall, the perfect picture of apathy until his phone vibrated from his pocket. He flicked it out and instantly grinned at the name that reflected off the screen.

_MALIK: You should be on dancing with the stars. The way you gracefully toppled against that poor woman? Truly a heartstopping performance_

_YOU: did it make u hot_

_MALIK: Nice try_

Bakura snickered to himself and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He and the hot tech had been texting regularly now, during class, at 1 AM, and even when they were supposed to have their phones off and away during the pick-up rehearsal, Malik couldn't seem to keep away from him. It was blindingly obvious that he wanted it- and really, why wouldn't he?

He shook his head, trying to think of something else.

Closing night was that Saturday. Bakura sighed. He liked this play, understood it on some level. He could've been the lead-hell, he (basically)_ was_ the lead...just not a baritone. At least the next show they did wouldn't be half as laboring as Sondheim.

He wiped the gross sweat from his forehead, desperately wanting to go home and spend the next three days jerking off, away from theatre. He glimpsed once more at the bright screen from his phone and the feeling in his stomach came back again.

_'Soon',_ he thought to himself and grinned, making the people around him shift uncomfortably. He and Malik were on opposite sides of the stage now, but regardless, his mind still traveled back to their first encounter, several other memories following suit.

Like his vow that night to fuck him into oblivion for thinking he could reject his advances. His frustration while waiting for Malik to figure out how attracted he was to Bakura. How long he had bided his time in anticipation of winning. And even now, there he was, at the most receiving innocent little texts like they were playmates.

He reassured himself with confidence that it couldn't be for very much longer. It wouldn't be for very much longer. Malik could only resist his charm for so long.

* * *

The red curtains closed, darkness befalling the actors on stage for the last time as the roaring applause finally began dying down. The figures surrounding Bakura instantly began laughing and hugging, congratulating one another for a show well closed. It was truly sickening to watch, and he was dying to get away from those freaks as quickly as possible, and so with a grimace Bakura quickly made a dart for the backstage exit.

Once out, he walked briskly towards the lobby, giving a sigh of a relief at the noticeably cooler temperature, a stark contrast to the unbearable mugginess of the stage. His mind was clouded with thoughts solely of finding Malik, cleverly seducing him to coming back to his apartment, and fucking like rabbits all night long. He was probably in the lobby, he was so close, he just needed to make a turn and-

"Bakura!"

_'Oh, fuck me.'_

It was his double, approaching him with a painfully forced smile spread across his lips. Bakura didn't have time for this.

"Hey, I know we haven't gotten along very well these past months. But I just wanted to say it's been really great working with you!" he said kindheartedly.

"Huh. Thanks, you too, Jenson," Bakura replied shortly, trying to end the conversation as quick as possible.

His double's gross, acne ridden face fell.

"My name is Jonas."

"...I have to get changed," Bakura said quickly, wishing to get out of the currently unfortunate turn of events.

"Right, catch you at the after party-"

Bakura shut the door, peeling his costume off layer by layer, hoping that he hadn't wasted too much time and that his sex target was at least in the building. Rushing to return to his normal appearance, Bakura still took time to check the mirror, fixing his beyond disheveled hair.

Well, he still looked good, even with the stringy pieces of hair and extra cowlicks. He left the makeup on, which he automatically regretted the moment he stepped outside the dressing room.

_'Too late,'_ he thought and continued his search.

Finally, when he was on the verge of giving up, he saw Malik casually lounging in the lobby, watching in amusement as his friends joked about the near catastrophes they had averted backstage.

He puffed his cheeks in annoyance. Bakura really didn't want to approach him when he was surrounded by clowns. He opted to just lean against the concessions counter and wait until Malik took notice. Sure enough, within moments he was walking towards him, not really smiling, but not quite frowning either.

"Good show," he said, voice almost sounding shy. Bakura held back a cackle.

_'Great small talk, moron.'_

"Heh, yeah, great job moving that one thing and handing out props."

If Malik had any pride as part of the technical crew he would have jumped on the insult and defended the cast behind the scenes who made the whole show possible, but in reality he didn't give a shit about tech and only did as much as was necessary to not get fired. So he responded with a crude snort and moved to Bakura's side.

"Hey Malik! Want a ride to the cast party?" they heard a feminine voice shout.

"Haha, no I'm not really into it. Honestly I'm not feeling so well either. Just gonna go home," he replied as indifferently as possible. The girl just shrugged.

_'Shit,_' Bakura thought bitterly. He began scouring his brain, desperately searching every crevice for anything that would be able to convince him to come home with him. He was drawing a blank, and he would have been more worried, but oddly enough, Malik remained stationery and silent beside him.

When he peered over to look at him, he found that he was already staring at him. No surprise there.

Bakura smiled. "What you thinking 'bout there, techie?"

Malik just pulled a face and averted his gaze. Bakura opened his mouth again, prepared to make a jab at him before he felt fingers begin to intertwine with his own, grasping his hand firmly. Then, without a word, Malik led them briskly to one of the vacant looking halls, though just slow enough to not attract stares to the blatant act of affection.

Once they were out of sight, he released his hold on Bakura's hand and slid to the ground, back leaning against the poster clad wall. Bakura followed suit and looked as if he were about to speak, but Malik cut him off.

"Before you turn this around and start ridiculing me, yes, I did just want to see you before I went home," he admitted in a hushed voice. "So don't even start."

Bakura just smiled again.

"Clearly, you would," he murmured back to him.

Before Malik could quip back a response, he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pressed their lips together. Malik responded instantly, his hand reaching up and cupping Bakura's cheek, gently but forcefully bringing his face even closer to his own. After a few endless seconds, they pulled apart.

"You taste like coffee," Bakura mumbled, eyeing him teasingly.

"Cut me a break, this job is killing me," Malik whined. "I feel like a fuckin' zombie without it."

"Gross."

"You know what, on second thought I do want to get home now."

It was quiet for a moment, then Bakura remembered something from a little earlier.

"Hey, why'd that girl offer to drive you to the party? Don't you have your douche-mobile?"

Malik's face darkened. "There's something wrong with the motor, it's out of commission until Tuesday."

Bakura snorted. "That doesn't sound very ultramatic."

"What?"

Bakura stared at him silently. Of course this idiot had never seen _Grease _before. More importantly, why was he making stupid jokes about a car musical when Malik didn't have a ride home? Luck was on his side tonight. Even God wanted them to do it.

"If you suck me off I'll give you a ride-" The words were barely out of his mouth before Malik, without hesitation socked him on the back of his head.

"Asshole, I was joking!" he hissed, rubbing his head. "Hitchhike for all I care." Wait no, dammit, he didn't mean that. Thinking of ways to recant what he just said, Bakura looked up, surprised to see him smiling in amusement.

"...Anyway, if you seriously need a ride, I can take you home."

Malik hesitated for a moment, appearing to be weighing the pros and cons in his head before slowly nodding. "Alright. Thanks."

Bakura beamed at him and stood up, twirling his keys around his finger and leading him out the door and to his car. Malik instantly grimaced as he opened the car door and peered inside. Scattered all along the floor and backseat were candy wrappers, empty soda cans, and empty bags of fast food.

"It smells like you killed a cat in here," he groaned, reluctantly sitting down and buckling in.

Bakura just rolled his eyes and started the car, ignoring Malik's complaints about the smell that was _clearly_ McDonald's and _clearly_ smelt fantastic, driving out of the parking lot. His brilliant plan was now in effect.

"Take a left here," Malik told him, pointing his finger in the vague general area.

Bakura ignored him and took a right. "I know where I'm going."

Malik spluttered. "This isn't the way to my apartment, you idiot-"

"Stop talking, you're messing up my concentration! I'm gonna crash and you're gonna die, and then you're gonna wish you hadn't been whining so much. So shut up," Bakura hissed at him while simultaneously having to stifle a laugh of amusement.

Malik grew oddly quiet at that, though Bakura heard him whack his head against the window in clear frustration. The rest of the car ride was silent, and after a few minutes Bakura pulled into the parking lot of his own apartment complex.

"Well, wouldn't you know!" he exclaimed in mock shock. "Somehow we ended up at my place instead!"

Malik pinched the bridge of his nose.

_'Great idea, let the insane midget take you home.'_

He glared at the small apartment complex, realizing that Bakura had never intended to safely deliver him to actual residence.

"Yeah, what a crazy turn of events," he said flatly.

Bakura made a point of looking at the sky. "Oh look, it's pretty dark out, huh. You should probably stay the night, you'll get more sleep." What an incredible lie.

Malik searched deep within himself for a good alibi, should he kill the man leering happily in front of him. But he was exhausted and didn't have the strength nor the will to argue. With a knowingly defeated expression he sighed and got out of the car.

Soon enough they were inside the apartment, and Malik wasn't shocked in the slightest when he found that it was messier than his trainwreck of a car. Once again, candy wrappers and empty cans were strewn about, the only difference was that it didn't smell nearly as bad.

Without a word, the two slipped out of their shoes and jackets, and Malik stood with his hands awkwardly jammed in his pockets as Bakura headed towards the kitchen.

"Do you want a Poptart?" he asked from the cabinet, digging through it.

"No."

"Okay good," came the muffled reply as Bakura gingerly stepped back to the living room with the pastry in his mouth. He sat down on the couch, glancing at Malik expectantly, who understood and wordlessly followed him.

A heavy silence hung thick in the air.

It hadn't been spoken out loud, but both knew exactly what they were there to do. It was clear as day that neither were virgins and that this was not a big deal. It was just a matter of actually getting there that was the problem.

Malik anxiously drummed his fingers against his leg, waiting for Bakura to do or say something. He would have done it himself, but the moron was too preoccupied with his Poptart, chewing it thoughtfully.

_'What the fuck is he waiting for?'_ Malik thought.

_'Why the fuck isn't he on me?'_ Bakura thought.

The seconds crawled by at an agonizing rate before Bakura finally decided to carefully place his half eaten Poptart on the table.

Malik stared. Bakura stared right back.

Then, almost hesitantly, the shorter boy began leaning in, and Malik, taking the hint, met him half way, mouths finally meeting.

He tasted like Poptarts- strawberry, his least favorite flavor. Still it was nice; it made the kiss sweet and was a welcome change from plain spit. He moved his arm so that his elbow rested on Bakura's shoulder and his hand tangled in his unruly white locks.

Malik's pulse began to even out, but his breath became ragged and short. Bakura opened his mouth and their kisses grew longer and more intense, their lips moving together urgently. Without warning Malik felt a slender hand tug at his jeans, and instead of removing it he took his own fingers from Bakura's hair and slid them gently up his shirt.

His skin was really soft. Malik expected it to be soft, but it was really_, really_ soft. When he traveled up the length of his torso, his palm stopped at the rib cage and Malik felt bones sticking out ever so slightly. He pushed him back against the armrest, and then with Bakura underneath him, unbuttoned his pants.

Suddenly he felt a hand push against his chest, signaling him to stop. He looked down at the human mess in front of him. Bakura gazed up at him without speaking and Malik realized that the couch would be extremely difficult to maneuver around. He calmed himself down enough to break from the other man as they sat up, panting.

Bakura took a moment to even out his breathing and let Malik do the same. Then, he smiled knowingly at him, eyes noticeably clouded, and stood up, walking ever so slowly to what Malik assumed was his bedroom, leaving the door wide open invitingly. Malik swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair feverishly. The son of a bitch was going to make him act on his own desire and choose to follow him.

He grabbed his phone and checked his reflection briefly before hurriedly making his way to the room. Bakura was lying on the bed, in the process of removing his shirt when he spotted Malik out of his peripheral vision and grinned up at him. Without a word, Malik closed the door behind him with his heel and before Bakura could comprehend it, he was on top of him, ravishing his lips with his own. Bakura willingly moaned into the kiss, snapping his hips up to meet Malik's, taking pride in the way the action made his breath hitch.

Malik pulled back and somewhat clumsily ridded himself of his own shirt. Bakura took advantage of the moment of vulnerability and crawled out from under him, pushing him down so that he was on top of him instead.

"You're so fucking hot," he whispered fervently, grinning wildly.

Lowering his chest flush against Malik's he relished in the warmth that radiated from the body beneath him. He leaned down and brought his head to Malik's neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin hungrily while his hands ran up and down his sides.

Delicate fingers trailed down the bronze skin before stopping at the hem of his jeans, lingering there tantalizingly before he heard Malik growl warningly. With a quiet exhale of laughter, he undid the buttons and slid them off, his boxers joining them in a forgotten heap on the floor immediately after.

Malik pushed himself up on his elbows, working on getting Bakura out of his pants, quickly deciding that he was wearing far too many clothes.

Once he had shaken off his own boxers, Bakura leaned over him, hastily rummaging through a drawer in his bedside table. Finally, he found the small bottle of lubricant and wordlessly gestured for Malik. A little bashfully, he lowered Bakura onto his back, grabbing the bottle and covering his index and middle finger with its contents. With his left hand, he grabbed the pale hip and slowly pressed his fingers to Bakura's asshole. Malik slipped them in as gently as possible, but he still heard the sharp intake of breath. Once they were both deep enough inside, he started stretching, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion.

Unable to keep himself from looking up at Bakura, he peered at his flushed body and parted lips, encouraging him further. Malik continued his ministrations, and he felt Bakura's body relax slightly. When a third finger joined the other two without complaint, he deemed him ready, fumbling around for the lube once more and coating his dick.

He placed one hand on his waist for support and the other one on his thigh. Then, at a carefully gradual pace he pushed his length inside of him and watched through lidded eyes as Bakura bit his lip and arched his back. The feeling of Bakura's warmth around him was incredible, and he couldn't hold back a soft sigh.

Malik was already extremely hard, and the expression that the man below him made when he began thrusting only heightened his arousal. He moved slowly, monitoring Bakura's face for any signs of discomfort or any cues to go faster. His eyes remained closed, his teeth still digging into his bottom lip, strands of his bangs clinging to his forehead. He looked eminently erotic, so much so that Malik's focus was momentarily interrupted by Bakura grabbing onto his upper arms.

With power he didn't know that little body could possess, Malik was abruptly pushed over.

"Wha-" he gasped out breathlessly as the positions were suddenly reversed, with Bakura on top of him, straddling, and himself left laying down on his back.

He watched through cloudy vision as Bakura let out a shaky breath and gripped Malik's broad shoulders, nails creating tiny half-moon indents in the skin. Both remained still, allowing him to adjust to the new position for a moment. Bakura's ragged panting was the loudest noise in the room. Then, he finally began to lift himself up before slamming right back down, taking it all.

_'Holy shit.'_

Almost instantly his pace picked up, grinding into Malik's dick incessantly, breath coming out in short, needy gasps. Malik let out a barely audible groan, hands leaving their position from gripping the bed sheets and instead grabbing Bakura's hips. It was so warm, so incredibly warm and tight, and as Bakura's muscles clenched around him, he felt as though he were drowning in pure sensation.

Bakura let out a keen whine as Malik suddenly smacked his hips up against his, driving him even deeper. Loving the sound it elicited, he continued bucking up into him, and Bakura threw his head back, gripping his shoulders like a life line. Alternating between grinding and repeatedly lifting himself before slamming back down onto Malik, Bakura rapidly found himself climbing, his breath becoming labored and his movements frenzied. The angle made it a little difficult for him to continue hitting the spot that made him cry out, but every time he found it the result was more than enough.

Malik knew he was reaching his edge, he felt it in every corner of his body. Bakura's hand moved from Malik's shoulder to instead push it against his chest. Glancing up at him, Malik could tell that he ached for release. If he wasn't nearing his peak himself, he would've rode it out just a while longer so that he could continue to admire the look on his face, not pain- but not yet ecstasy.

The hand that had been previously positioned on Bakura's waist now moved down to grip him. He tried to go slow, but it was clear to both that they wouldn't last much longer. Malik rapidly began pumping him, enjoying the soft moans and sighs of pleasure that tumbled freely from Bakura's kiss swollen lips without reserve, every stroke bringing them closer.

Bakura continued moving against him desperately, speeding up his pace to match that of the one Malik pumped him to, and that was enough to send Malik over the edge.

"Fuck," he hissed and threw his head back as he felt every muscle in his stomach tighten then relax, a feeling of warmth spreading up and through his body. Bakura followed right after with a strangled cry, nails digging into Malik's skin hard enough to leave marks. As he came down from his high, he lifted himself off of him and rolled back onto the bed.

With a satisfied sigh, he turned onto his side, back facing Malik. His eyes fluttered closed, trying to focus on evening out his breath so that he could fall asleep. After a few moments, his breathing was back to normal, but there was something wrong.

In the midst of his afterglow, the fluttery feeling in his stomach still remained.

His heartbeat quickened. He felt anxious, confused and a little angry. In the back of his mind he recalled that the reason this whole night happened was so he could have sex and _get rid of it_.

"Goodnight," he heard Malik happily breathe.

Bakura ignored him out of frustration and shifted irritably on his side of the mattress. He supposed he'd let him sleep here regardless of how he was feeling- he couldn't just kick him out.

He gave up contemplating his current state and fell into an easy sleep.

* * *

**A/N: WE DID IT! WE WROTE THE DO. God, writing a sex scene with two people is a lot harder than it looks. You gotta like, communicate which stuff both people prefer so you're left with horrible exchanges such as "Hey is it okay if I use the word 'length' to describe his dong?" ""Oh yeah totally. Oh what ew, don't use the word 'delicious' here!'" "Why isn't that hot" "No" Yeah. Pretty horrible. There's gonna be quite a few more of these scenes though (could you tell how we set it up?)(there's also a lot more I wanted to do but couldn't because it was their lame-o first time *shakes fists in the air*)so we'll get used to it. And probably get better. I mean, hopefully.**

**I hope what we're trying to do with Bakura's feelings is clear enough. If we're doing it right, you can tell that they both have a loooong way to go, but at this point they are definitely an item! ^u^**

**Thank you very much for reading, please let us know what you think! Feedback is super duper appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 9

"Good morning, beautiful!"

Malik opened his sleep deprived eyes filled with nothing but contempt for the perfect vision of well rested in front of him. He said nothing but instead looked up at the ceiling, collecting his blurry thoughts. Last night had been the most nerve wracking sexual experience of his life.

The during was fine, but paranoia that Bakura hadn't enjoyed it in the least had kept him from falling asleep. It seemed though, that his worry had been in vain, because when he finally looked at his companion, Malik was once again greeted by the ever-present (and slightly mean) smile that rarely left Bakura's face. That made him even more annoyed and he groaned. He wanted to get back to his own bed and actually sleep.

"Make me breakfast."

Malik blinked and then narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I'm hungry, there are waffles in the freezer." Bakura stretched his arms then turned his head to the side of the pillow to face Malik. He blinked as if to say "Well?"

Unbelievably, Malik actually got up. Before he did, he quickly pulled his shirt on with his back facing the wall, and then the rest of his clothes and proceeded to the kitchen.

"That's what I thought," he heard Bakura say, so he found one of his shoes on the floor and threw it at him.

"Ugh, asshole!"

Ignoring him, Malik drowsily shuffled into the kitchen, scanning his surroundings through hazy vision until he found the freezer and the frozen waffles they contained.

"Bakura, where the hell's your toaster?" he called out, grabbing the box and searching around the counters to no avail. God, it was too early for this.

"Don't have one. Frying pan's in the top shelf." Bakura emerged from the bedroom in a baggy shirt and pajama pants and unceremoniously collapsed onto the couch.

"You want me to _fry _you frozen waffles?" Malik asked incredulously.

Bakura lifted his head up at him, eyes gleaming. "I think I deserve at least that much as thanks. You know, for giving you the best night of your life."

Malik let out a crude breath of laughter without humor. "Keep telling yourself that," he replied dryly.

Despite his words, a few short minutes later he was actually frying frozen waffles for the two of them while Bakura watched TV from the couch. Malik wondered why a television seemed to be of more importance than a toaster.

Another yawn involuntarily tore from his lips and he rubbed his temples with his free hand. He glanced at the time on the oven, and the angry numbers 8:15 glared back at him. The last number he had seen before finally falling asleep last night was 7:12. Fantastic.

As the sound of perpetual sizzling filled his ears, his thoughts began to wander. Bakura appeared to be in a decent mood now, but last night he seemed especially sour after they had finished, turning his back to Malik and completely ignoring him until he fell asleep. He hadn't gotten it- the actual _sex _was fine for him. There wasn't any problems, no injuries, no-

No condom.

"Hurry up."

No condom.

"Techie, are you listening to me?"

_No condom._

"Is something burning?"

_No, oh god, no. No, no, no, no-_

"Malik!"

Bakura, who had gone into the kitchen to check on his food, was now holding Malik's wrist. Slowly, he faced him with a frantic expression.

"What's wrong with you, how do you burn waffles?!"

He looked down at the black remains of breakfast. "...We forgot to use a condom."

"What?" Bakura said, briefly confused. Then realization struck him and he let go of Malik's wrist. He pressed his fingers against his temple. "Ah, shit."

Malik in the meanwhile, found a chair to sink into and covered his face with his hands. He was always careful; the last thing he wanted was to get the clap from some idiot college student who couldn't be bothered to make sure he was clean.

_This is it_, he thought. _I'm gonna die. I'm going to die because I was roped into having unprotected sex with an evil gnome._

Malik was embarrassed to find that he was shaking. Fuck, why hadn't he just gone home? Why had he-

He felt a tense hand on his shoulder, and when he uncovered his eyes saw Bakura standing over him. His face was serious until he broke into a halfhearted sneer. "What are you worrying about? I'm clean, you're _obviously_ clean..."

Malik shook his head. "You don't understand."

At that Bakura snorted. "You won't get AIDS from forgetting a condom one time."

When Malik still didn't seem any better, he tentatively put his arm around him in an awkward attempt at comforting. "Th-there, there. Don't worry."

Malik finally relaxed, and when his breath evened out, Bakura removed his arm.

"Fuck!"

He had been so wrapped up in making Malik feel better that he had neglected to turn off the burner. His only frying pan was ruined. He tossed the burnt mess into the garbage then went into his bedroom, abruptly closing the door. When Bakura emerged he was fully dressed. Malik looked at him questioningly.

"You ruined breakfast so now you're gonna take me out to eat."

* * *

The rest of the week flew by for both of them. Since the show had closed, the cast and crew had a well-deserved break from theater until the next project was announced, which would be that weekend. Malik spent the majority of his time trying to simultaneously catch up on his sleep, not fail his classes, as well as keep the ever high maintenance Bakura entertained.

When Saturday rolled around, an email was sent out to everyone in the troupe announcing that the new project would be a musical called Rent. As expected, Malik had never heard of it in his life. But he knew someone who definitely would have.

He flicked out his phone.

_YOU: What's rent about?_

A response came less than 30 seconds later.

_BAKURA: gays and aids_

_YOU: Seems right up your alley_

_BAKURA: :(_

Malik grinned and clicked the lock button, going back to skimming the email. Apparently the sheet music would be given out on Tuesday, and everyone needed to go pick it up at the theater. Then, that weekend they would have auditions and call backs, and the cast list would be up the next Monday.

_YOU: Want a ride on Tuesday?_

_BAKURA: ya_

Malik paused before typing a reply, looking pensive. He didn't seem very enthusiastic, despite the new show being announced. Didn't that gay lord live for this kind of stuff?

_YOU: Excited?_

_BAKURA: ya_

He sighed and put his phone away, resigned.

Tuesday came and Malik took the bus to the auto shop where his newly repaired bike would be. He paid the required amount, which meant that he probably wouldn't eat for the next few days. Before getting on he sent Bakura a message telling him he was on his way. He felt his phone buzz and slid it open to an unenthusiastic "ok."

He found Bakura's apartment relatively easy, he'd been there enough. Malik was about to get off the motorcycle when he noticed that Bakura was waiting outside on the steps of his building. Silently he put on the helmet Malik tossed him and got on. Malik turned back to look at him.

"What, no crack about what a tool I am?"

Bakura shook his head. "No."

Was he sick? No offhanded comment about him being a douche? Whatever, maybe he'd ask him what was wrong when they got to the theater.

He pulled up to the entrance when they arrived at their destination. Bakura got off before him and went ahead, seeing as Malik was just part of stage crew and didn't really need to be there anyway. The theater was cold- they had left the heat off for the last week.

Everyone there was talking excitedly about what they would audition for and whether or not they'd get a lead this time. Bakura found where they had put the music and looked over the tenor section. He slumped into one of the audience seats and read the notes. Once Malik was inside he sat in the seat next to him.

"What?" he asked. Something was obviously bothering him.

"Hmm?" Bakura responded.

Malik sighed, not really knowing if he wanted to go through the trouble of finding out what was wrong. After a few moments however, he asked, "What's your problem?"

Bakura made a face at him and his bad attempt at feigning interest. "Nothing's wrong."

"For an actor, you sure are bad at pretending to be ok," he pressed, though his tone lacked any venom. "Come on, just tell me, you moron."

Bakura appeared to think about it for a moment before sighing and coming clean. "They're gonna typecast me."

"Okay, good. Now say it in a language I can understand."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "There's a character in Rent, right? His name is Benny, and he's a total bastard. He's basically the reason for everything that goes wrong in the story, the characters hate him and the audience hates him."

"Hey, he kinda sounds like you," Malik teased, smiling lightheartedly.

Bakura puffed out his cheeks in a pout, glowering. "I know."

Malik's grin faded away and a small frown took its place. He stayed silent for a moment, putting two and two together until realization hit him like a wave. "You think they're gonna cast you as him because you're..." He trailed off, leaving the thought in the air.

Bakura nodded.

"I don't know theater crap, but I seriously doubt it, if it makes you feel better."

"It's not that being typecasted would upset me or anything," Bakura continued on as if he hadn't heard him, "but Benny is a supporting character. He's nothing. I deserve to be a lead, you know I do."

Malik said nothing. Of course that was what was really bothering him, not the fact that people thought he was an asshole. Bakura mumbled something else that he didn't catch.

"What'd you say?"

Bakura glared at the floor. "I said that some of his notes go too low and I can't sing them."

Malik laughed in spite of himself. That was actually pretty cute. Bakura's glare left the floor and focused angrily at Malik. He forced himself to stop and regarded Bakura with amusement.

"Wanna go somewhere tomorrow?"

* * *

The next day, Malik found himself in front of the door to Bakura's small apartment. He knocked twice, and immediately was greeted with a muffled shout.

"Hold on, bastard! I'm almost done."

Malik sneered at the door. "What are you, a girl?" he called back, earning no response.

About a minute later, the door was briskly slammed open, startling Malik out of his thoughts. There Bakura stood, wearing a dark blue jacket that seemed a little loose on him, his unruly white locks tied up in a high ponytail.

Fuck. Why'd he always have to act like Satan reborn and then turn around and look completely adorable?

"Took you long enough," Malik muttered, biting back any compliments because he _knew_ he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Let's get going."

Bakura smiled at him as if he could read his mind and silently trailed behind him as they got to his newly reformed bike and drove into town.

"Why'd you bring me here?" Bakura glanced around at the shops lining the street.

"I don't know- maybe because the last time I took you out to eat you almost assaulted an ice cream server."

Bakura clicked his tongue in irritation as they continued walking. Eventually they stopped at a little gift shop.

"This place looks alright," Malik said but stopped in the doorway when he saw that Bakura wasn't following. "What, is there something wrong with it?" he sighed, exasperated.

"No," Bakura said quickly and accompanied him inside.

There were a lot of weird trinkets there, things like whistles shaped like frogs and "funny" greeting cards. They looked through the isles filled with useless toys quietly. Malik was thinking of what to say when they heard a rough voice shout, "You!" from the counter.

He whirled around in alarm to see the employee looking right at them with a dangerous glower. "What the hell did I tell you about coming back in here?"

"Shit!" Bakura grabbed Malik by the arm and pulled him outside and into a sprint. They stopped after the store was a good two blocks behind them.

"What the fuck was that?" Malik shouted.

Bakura panted, catching his breath. "You couldn't have just taken me to a nice lunch, could you!" he hissed in-between gasps of air.

"That is so far from the point, could you _please _explain to me why we had to book it out of a quaint little tourist shop?"

Bakura smirked this time. "I'm not allowed back in there after last time."

Malik opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried again, and that time he found his voice.

"You're a shoplifter."

"I prefer thief," Bakura said, almost offended.

"You're a petty criminal!"

"Did you just call me pretty?"

"Augh!" Malik pinched the bridge of his nose. It looked like he could toss out today's plans, since he now felt obligated to keep Bakura away from any of the nearby shopping outlets. "God, what did you even steal from there, a snow globe?"

"I don't remember," he answered, digging in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a gold colored keychain with a pyramid hanging from it. "I saw it and thought of you." He grinned.

Malik's heart involuntarily did a flip in his chest as he stared at the trinket. Without a word, he reached out and took it from him, features softening momentarily before remembering just how he obtained it.

"You expect me to be thankful for something you _stole?_ After we just got kicked out for you stealing there previously?" he exclaimed in exasperation.

Bakura looked undeterred. "Yes?"

Malik glared at him in silence. He wasn't sure which stupid thing to address first. His eyes trailed down until they were back on his still open fist holding the keychain. He sighed, reluctantly resigned to his fate and put it in his pocket. "...Thanks," he muttered begrudgingly.

"'Bout time I heard a thank you," Bakura replied through his grin and turned on his heel. "Where are we going now?"

Malik walked to his side, watching ahead of him as his breath materialized as a small cloud. "Are we going to get the same result for all the stores we try to go to here?"

"Probably," Bakura admitted.

Unbelievable. What the hell had he gotten himself into? "Wanna go to a movie, then?" he suggested.

"Okay," Bakura agreed.

The two began walking towards the movie theater, idly small talking over the loud murmurs of the strangers flooding past them on the busy sidewalk.

"Hey, techie. Can you hold something for me?" Bakura asked suddenly, holding out an enclosed fist.

He didn't respond, but glanced at him and held out his open hand. Bakura brought his empty fist into Malik's waiting palm, extending his fingers out and intertwining with his.

"Wow. Smooth," Malik said, rolling his eyes.

Bakura just smiled.

The movie theater was within walking distance, so they made it there without the bike. The two went inside to see what was playing, but all the headlines were in French.

"Huh?"

Bakura stifled a laugh. "You took us to a foreign film screening- you're a poser."

"Shut up theatre geek, just pick a movie."

They ended up buying two tickets to _La Liberte du Vagin_. There was a lady at a counter selling concessions and when Malik asked if Bakura wanted any popcorn, he eloquently responded with, "No, popcorn's fucking gross," before demanding that he buy him two boxes of Raisinets. Soon after that they took their seats.

There was a short song sequence before the opening credits faded away and the movie started. After eight minutes of a blonde woman crying hysterically to herself in French passed, Malik had instantly regretted his decision.

"Great movie choice, dumbass," Bakura whispered harshly to him.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that-" Malik whispered back before he was cut off.

"Holy shit."

He looked back at the screen to find the blonde woman from before now being stripped of her clothing by a tanned, muscular man who had come literally out of nowhere, leaving nothing to the imagination. First they were murmuring in French together, and then the next thing Malik knew they were on the bed in a full blown, uncensored sex scene.

"Did you take me to see a _porn_?" Bakura exclaimed loudly, uncaring of the scornful shushes it got him in return.

Malik was too shocked and confused to respond.

They continued to watch in silence as the woman got mercilessly rammed from behind. After 10 minutes of X rated content the scene changed to her at work.

"Finally, the plot advances!" Malik said loudly, too genuinely relieved to whisper. He and Bakura exchanged knowing glances before breaking into quiet snickering.

Unfortunately their reprieve was short lived when an authoritative looking woman with brown hair went into her office, yelling about something. It seemed like things were getting intense when she pushed the blonde onto the tiny desk and climbed on top of her.

"That's cheating! I thought she was with the guy!" Bakura yelled. "What a bitch."

Other members of the audience groaned and shushed them once again.

"Oh my god, no way they're scissoring. That doesn't look like it feels good at _all_," Malik grimaced.

A man behind them tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey listen, can you keep it down? We're all trying to enjoy the movie."

"How can you? It's horrible!"

The man scowled and sat back down, irritably whispering something to a woman next to him.

"Holy shit, can we see some character development instead of badly written sex? I'm not feeling _anything_ towards these characters," Bakura said in an over the top fashion, noticeably louder than before. Malik laughed quietly.

Another loud hush met their ears, followed by the man from before hissing, "If you say one more word, I'm getting the staff."

The two audibly groaned in unison and glared ahead at the screen, arms crossed. The blonde girl seemed to have just experienced the most mind blowing orgasm in her life after 6 minutes of horribly shot scissoring.

For the next 5 minutes, they begrudgingly sat in silence as they viewed the pornographic catastrophe of a film.

Then, as the beginnings of a threesome took place on screen, Malik got a better idea.

"Hey, come here," he whispered to Bakura, leaning in close.

Bakura turned to face him, a glint in his eyes.

"I think this movie is kinda getting me going, it's just too hot," Malik continued, raising his voice so that the whisper could be heard throughout the rows of people.

"Ooh Malik, it's been far too long..." Bakura moaned, slipping his fingers through his hair.

"Oh Bakura," he said breathily, and then in a disgustingly over exaggerated public display of affection he smashed their lips together. They could hear everyone collectively exclaim when Bakura made a scene of throwing his snack to the ground and moving to sit on top of him. That only prompted the two more, as they flagrantly made out in front of the screen, the horrible sound of lips smacking and porn star moans filling the dimly lit theater.

"Baby wait, not there," Bakura purposely whispered so loudly it was nearly a shout, pressing into him in the most overly wanton and fake way possible. Malik broke character for a brief second to let out a huff of laughter before Bakura closed the distance between them again, grinning from ear to ear.

Their interlude was interrupted by a flashlight being shone into their eyes. They turned to stare at a very large man in uniform.

"I'm going to have to ask you boys to leave."

"Holy shit, are you homophobic?" Bakura asked curtly before he was grabbed up by his shoulders as Malik burst into laughter.

"This is a hate crime! You're going to have a talk with my lawyer!" Bakura screamed as he and Malik were both dragged out of the theater, leaving behind the echoes of a vibrant laughter from the both of them that resonated throughout the building.

* * *

**A/N: So, funny story. The forgotten condom thing was a complete accident on our part. We were literally hanging out and laying in bed together talking about what we were going to do for this chapter when my co-writer just screams "HOLY SHIT WE FORGOT THE CONDOM" and I'm like "OHHH NO. WE FUCKED UP, WE FUCKED UP SO BAD" and we decided we had to address it. And I'm glad we did, I think the results came out funny! So yeah, these two create trouble everywhere they go! And no, the movie they saw isn't a real movie. )': Also you can tell how crappy their troupe is, only doing big name musicals. HAH!**

**All the feedback is super appreciated! We love each and every one of you!**


	10. Chapter 10

Bakura awoke with a start to the sound of his ringtone blaring in his eardrums. With a sluggish groan and a crack of his neck he clicked the offending device on. It was 4:12 in the evening, and whoever had interrupted his after class nap would have hell to pay. He hissed at the sudden light that burned his retinas in the dimness of the room before finally reading the text.

_MALIK: Wake up and check your email_

Bakura clicked his tongue and threw the phone to the end of his bed without responding. That idiot didn't understand the meaning of beauty sleep. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if he missed his 14 hours of sleep a night all because of _him_.

_Do they not have a sense of morals in fuckin' pyramid land?_ he thought to himself groggily as he finally forced himself out of bed to check his email.

One new message awaited him, sent from the troupe. Through his still hazy vision, one word in particular leapt out at him.

_Cast List._

Oh. Oh, yeah.

He didn't even bother opening the attachment that contained the cast list itself; however another scan of the message told him that he would have to be at the lobby in an hour to pick up the script. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to fix his still blurry vision and grabbed his keys.

It was only 4:49 when he got to the theatre but the sky was orange and golden, almost time for the sun to start setting. He parked his car and hurried inside, wanting to get home as soon as possible. The director was sitting at a table handing out the play to all the oncoming actors. Idiot. He could just leave them there, but he was an overenthusiastic dumbass. Bakura tried to smile as he reached his hand out for the papers but halfway his face contorted into a tired sneer. The director mumbled something while avoiding eye contact. Bakura didn't hear him.

"What?"

The director looked slightly annoyed, as if saying it the first time had caused him physical pain.

"I said, 'congratulations'."

And again Bakura responded with, "What?"

* * *

That asshole was kidding. There was no way the troupe had overcome their petty grudges and acknowledged how talented he was. Bakura threw his script on the bed and started up his computer. _Email._ He swore to God, if it was just some sort of juvenile stab at revenge for being better than them all he would...

_Email. Email._ He found the message and clicked on the pdf file he had previously neglected. The cast list would be arranged from most important to least important like it always was. It opened. Bakura ground his teeth when he saw the first roles listed and silently read right at the top.

**Main Cast**

**Mark Cohen- Bakura Touzoku**

Bakura blinked wildly, staring at the screen.

Well, duh.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, releasing a short breath of air that he didn't realize he was holding. It looked like those idiots had finally realized what they had been missing out on by casting him solely as supporting characters- it was only a matter of time before they realized their mistake. Despite his sardonic thoughts, he still let out a mirthful laugh, running his hand through his hair.

He was a lead.

He was a star.

And holy hell, the hot techie was gonna lose his shit when he heard- he'll have slept with the equivalent of a celebrity. With that thought in mind, he reached for his phone and hurriedly tapped away a message.

_YOU: im the star of the show take me out on a celebratory dinner i deserve it_

_MALIK: What are you serious? You got the lead?_

_YOU: are u surprised i told u i would_

_MALIK: Dont you dare start with me_

_YOU: haha_

_YOU: but srsly pick me up tonite 6_

_MALIK: What if I don't_

_YOU: u will :)_

Before he received what he assumed would be a halfhearted insult, he clicked the phone off and started getting ready for his well-deserved date.

A few minutes after 6, Bakura heard the obnoxious sound of the douchemobile nearing his apartment. At that moment it struck him that riding Malik's bike would horribly mess up his meticulously styled hair.

"Ugh," he huffed to himself aloud. Regardless, he made his way down the steps and to his date.

"You're taking me somewhere classy tonight, right? Since I am... you know... a leading role," he drawled through a grin.

Malik ignored him and threw Bakura his helmet. He had gotten pretty much used to the general impact of riding a motorcycle and the trip didn't take much time at all. Malik pulled up to a nice looking Chinese restaurant and they went inside.

The date was nice. Bakura wasn't sure if the light, tingly feeling in his chest was from getting the main role or if it was something else, but the evening went kind of _relaxed_. One of the waiters shot Bakura a glare and a family actually went up to their table to complain about some of his more 'inappropriate' comments, but they didn't get kicked out this time.

It ended with Malik taking him home. They lingered awkwardly at the door.

"Hey, so um. I'm glad you got the role. You deserve it," Malik said lamely, realizing he hadn't mentioned it during the date. The words felt strange coming out of his mouth- he hardly ever complimented people.

"I know."

Bakura didn't bother to say thanks, so they both ended up mumbling something along the lines of 'see you later' before Bakura went inside. He ran his hand through his hair, taking off his shoes and jacket.

He should've invited him in. Why didn't he? God damn it.

He continued grumbling curses under his breath as he made his way to the couch. Before he made it there, he heard two loud knocks. Annoyed, he turned around and opened the door.

"Um." Malik scratched his head, not really sure why he had knocked in the first place.

He couldn't really think of anything to say, so instead he reached out and kissed Bakura's cheek.

Even if he had wanted to say something after he pulled back he wouldn't have had time to, because Bakura instantly pulled him back to him, pressing their mouths together.

Malik seemed to relax into the kiss and he responded in kind, taking a step forward and snaking a hand through his hair. He barely registered the sound of the door being closed behind them, nor that they were moving together towards the bedroom like a pair of uncoordinated dancers. Instead, he was focused on Bakura- _solely_ on him and his touch and the feel of his lips and tongue and the kisses that grew more urgent and heated as they continued on.

They stopped when they hit the foot of Bakura's bed, only for Malik to shove him down onto it and crawl on top of him. Bakura looked at him, and when he saw the fiery look in his darkened violet eyes it sent jolts of electricity down his spine. Malik brought his mouth to Bakura's jawline and trailed down, attacking the sensitive skin between his neck and shoulders until a dark purple mark had formed. Bakura sighed softly and his hands moved down to start undoing Malik's pants.

Noticing what he was doing, Malik pulled back enough to rid Bakura of his own clothing. Through the haze he realized that the bedroom light was on, while last time it had been off. Silently deciding it would be best to keep his shirt on, he worked on getting the pale body before him completely nude while laying haphazard kisses on the slowly revealed skin.

Bakura murmured incoherent nothings as he did so and reached over for the small bottle in his drawer. Malik noticed the action and pulled back, sitting back on his heels and watching intently through lidded eyes as Bakura coated his fingers with the clear liquid before reaching down and sliding one into himself.

He released a shaky breath and kept his eyes on the enraptured looking Malik as he slowly stretched himself, a second finger soon joining the first. It took all the self-restraint Malik had not to jump on him and start fucking him right then, but he forced himself to stay still and watch the torturously erotic act, hands clenching the bed sheets. When Bakura added a third slick finger, the voracious thought that he would soon be inside of him made Malik's dick ache and he groaned keenly, quickly becoming impatient.

Finally, he judged that he was ready and brought a hand down on his hip. Bakura involuntarily shivered at the contact and shakily withdrew the fingers. Malik leaned in until their foreheads were touching and their breaths were mingling.

They came together for another hungry, open mouthed kiss before Malik pulled back, whispering, "Do you have a…"

Bakura nodded and hurriedly reached back into bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and tossing it to him wordlessly.

With the crisis averted, he grabbed Malik's arm, digging his nails into skin and shoved him under him, taking the same position as last time and watching breathlessly as Malik finished coating his dick with the lube before running a rough hand down the small of his back. Bakura bit his lip as he pushed inside, much easier than last time; the worry of causing pain was slightly calmed. After a brief pause, he smashed his hips against him, trying to make every wave of bliss better than the last.

Suddenly, between movements, an image flashed in Malik's mind. Back to the first time, and the cold way Bakura had responded before going to bed. His heart sped as the impulse to do something different surfaced. Without warning, he pushed Bakura under them and flipped him onto his stomach.

"Wha...?!" Bakura gasped in surprise.

Before he could protest, Malik found his target. Bakura moaned into the pillow. The position was hard to maneuver, hard to control. He felt conflicted.

"M-Malik I... don't like it this way- _ugh_!"

He was once again silenced by another shock of pleasure. He felt a hand press against his back and warm breath near his ear.

"It's just that… Last time it didn't seem like you enjoyed it so... I tried something different."

That fucking idiot, what kind of backwards way of thinking did he-_shit!_

Malik grasped Bakura's hips, lifting them up from the bed.

"Hold yourself up with your elbows," he murmured, and for some reason Bakura did what he told him.

Another groan involuntarily tore from his lips as Malik hit the spot inside of him again and again, quickly reducing him to a trembling mess.

"Malik," he tried again weakly, but found that he was too overwhelmed to speak and once again buried his head in the pillow as Malik repeatedly rammed into him from behind.

Bakura's entire body was on fire; he could feel himself becoming almost painfully hard as his breath came out in helpless gasps. The new angle drove Malik down in _all the right ways_, and both were positively intoxicated on sensation. He managed a shaky swear and, almost imperceptively, his hips began bucking against Malik's in time with his thrusts, wanting him deeper, harder. Malik swallowed a low moan and quickened his pace, trying to give Bakura exactly what he wanted.

Bakura could feel his warm breath in his ear again, and he realized bitterly that he wasn't even going to speak, just linger there, teasing him with his breath. One of the hands that had been fervently holding his hips curled around his waist until it grasped him firmly, and he couldn't help but whine loudly at the additional sensation. He was getting close, so, _so_ painfully close.

The sound of slapping skin and muffled cries echoed off the walls of the room, and Malik soon realized the only downside of this position- that he wasn't able to see the look on Bakura's face. But the sight of him right now, reduced to a flushed, moaning mess, eagerly bucking into him, with the face that usually held such arrogant confidence now adamantly hidden by a pillow as if _embarrassed_, right now, was more than enough for him.

Malik's thrusts soon lost any rhythm they held prior, becoming erratic and frenzied as he slammed into Bakura's tight heat, trying desperately to reach his rapidly approaching climax. And when Bakura's muscles clenched around him he finally found it, the familiar tightening and releasing followed by the waves of pleasure that wracked his body. The hand gripping Bakura pumped him incessantly until he couldn't hang on anymore, the tight coil in his stomach releasing as he arched hard into Malik, cries muffled by the soft fabric of the pillow.

They stayed frozen in that position for a few seconds. Bakura was the first to collapse face down on the mattress and Malik followed shortly, using all his remaining strength not to fall directly on him. He lay on his back, staring at the bright ceiling light.

"Are you okay?" he asked, hoping that he hadn't gone overboard.

"Yes," Bakura replied hoarsely, but kept his face buried.

Malik couldn't see it, but his face was flushed and glowing. Because of the situation, Bakura felt compelled to hide his euphoria and kept silent. And when a hesitant arm extended to wrap around his waist, he pushed it away.

* * *

"Wow, Malik."

Malik glanced up from his phone with a quirk of his eyebrow. "What?"

The tech who had momentarily paused painting a part of the new set was grinning sardonically at him.

"Look, we know you're proud of your country, but really, man?" he laughed, gesturing to the golden keychain with a pyramid on it that dangled off of his phone.

Malik swore under his breath. "It was a gift," he said flatly, tucking it back into his back pocket.

"A gift, huh?" Rachel crooned, leaning against the wall beside him. "Would this gift happen to be from your mini-Nazi of a boyfriend?"

Malik did a once over of the room to make sure everyone else had gone back to working on the sets and that it would only be them talking. When that seemed to be the case, he looked back at her and shrugged nonchalantly, not confirming or denying.

"He isn't my boyfriend, though," he said flippantly, reaching up to play with an errant strand of his tussled hair.

"I call bullshit! There's something going on there and you know it!"

Malik just shrugged again. Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, let's try this. Do you like him?"

"Yeah."

"Have you kissed?"

"Yeah."

"Have you fu-"

"None of your business," Malik interrupted, glowering warningly.

"Okay so that's clearly a yes," Rachel continued, smiling when Malik again didn't confirm or deny, just continued glaring at her. "And you _aren't_ dating?"

"Nope."

"And you aren't fuck buddies?"

"Nah."

At that, she pinched the bride of her nose. "Then what the hell are you doing?"

Malik looked at the ceiling, appearing to think about the question for a moment.

"I don't know," he finally replied. "But it's just…nice, I guess?"

Rachel stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," Malik said again, more to himself than anyone. "It's nice."

Rachel didn't look convinced, but before she could say anything else, a screechy voice pierced through the chatter of the working tech crew like a knife.

"_Techie!"_

The group of people looked up from their work, then at Malik, snickering knowingly.

"Techie! We need to talk!" Bakura yelled, storming into the workshop and pointing at Malik accusingly.

Malik sighed, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "Really? This can't wait until after work?"

"No! This can't wait anymore! I kept telling you again and again last night, you fucking idiot, _I don't like it from behind!_" Bakura replied sharply, crossing his arms.

Derek burst out into a fit of hysterical laughter, the sound being the only noise piercing the horribly stunned silence from the group. Malik had the sudden urge to hang himself with the rope tying the sets together.

"I- Are you kidding-"he spluttered helplessly before being cut off.

"And another thing! What the fuck is this? Is this a hickey? Mark Cohen doesn't have hickeys, you stupid fucking horn dog! You are literally ruining my character, so I hope you're happy!"

Bakura stormed off, making no attempt to hide his smirk as Malik was left completely speechless. He tried in vain to sputter out an explanation, but was drowned out by raucous laughter.

* * *

Malik had started to count minutes by how many nails he had hammered into the new set. Since they had just started building and nothing was close to being ready, all the props and furniture were being made in a work area to the side of the stage. The director wanted to keep it clear for the actors. Between the sounds of drilling he could hear the cast reading a run through of the show. Out of nowhere Malik heard yelling.

"You ugly bitch!"

Unsurprisingly, he recognized that voice as Bakura's. Quickly becoming curious, he turned from his work and watched the scene go down from the sidelines.

"Hey shut up, leave her alone." Someone else said brusquely. "Who raised you, Japanese warlords?!"

Bakura stopped grinning and glared at him. He balled his fists.

_Holy hell, is he going to _punch_ him? _Malik thought, shocked that that comment had actually bothered him.

Instead he pushed the man aside and stalked away, fuming. Malik felt that he should probably follow him so he tossed his hammer and headed to the dressing room. Down the hall he heard a door slam and quickened his pace. He looked inside to see Bakura leaning angrily against a mirror.

"Uh, what happened?" he asked slowly.

"What do you care?" Bakura spat, catching him off guard.

Malik didn't respond.

After a good minute of staring at the floor silently, he reasoned that Bakura would be better left alone. Hiding his distress, he went back to the work room and continued building a poorly constructed staircase. He didn't get it. Hateful comments directed towards him _never_ bothered Bakura. He had too much pride to let them get to him. So what was so different about this one?

Malik groaned. He was out of nails again. Dammit. He looked around, trying to remember where they put the supplies. They were at a corner on a table where Derek was working on a sign that was supposed to light up. He reached over Derek's shoulder to get the nails.

"Malik stop it, I don't like it from behind."

* * *

_**A/N: Wow, 10 whole chapters! I don't know whether I should smile or cry. But look how far we've come! Hmm, a lot of setting up in this chapter and not as much...doing. (Well they did do something HAHAHA-*SHOT*) More stuff is gonna go down in the next one, I promise that.**_

_**And yeah, Bakura could have confronted Malik about the sex thing that morning before work, but he did it during rehearsal solely to embarrass him in front of his friends. He's such a delight!**_

_**Anyway, it's a bit on the short side, but the next chapter will probably be out in about two weeks, since both of us are a little busy.**_

_**Please review and let us know what you think! :D**_


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